More than Meets the Eye
by Midnight Carmine
Summary: The stone tablet has revealed a secret. Obito is determined to get his hands on it as per Madara's orders, but to succeed, he needs the Hokage's apprentice to heal a war-torn Uchiha Itachi. Love is pitched against loyalty, honor against disgrace, and shinobi against human in a world of ninja where there's always more to a shinobi than meets the eye.
1. Grey

**Hello! This is my first Naruto fic (first Fanfiction ever, really), so I hope you enjoy it! Story starts midway through the final Sasuke-Itachi battle (Anime episodes: 134-143, Manga chapters: 384-412) and there will be spoilers for future episodes throughout.**

 **Have a good read!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

 ** _~ More Than Meets The Eye ~_**

 _Life…_

 _Death…_

His younger brother lunged at him.

The crackling flares of _Chidori_ illuminated the depths of hatred in the boy's blood-red eyes. Another futile blink to clear his vision and Itachi was dodging - a delayed defence in frail hopes to draw his brother's face just a little closer to his line of sight. Time came to a standstill as he squinted in his efforts to see him. It would seem that, even up close, his eyes were unable to sharpen the matured lines of Sasuke's face.

Itachi welcomed the flashback of the first time he'd laid eyes on him.

A tiny bundle of innocence. Of helpless life.

 _Life…_

His otouto had been his hope. The one who'd given him purpose when all seemed lost. His need to protect Sasuke's defenceless life had entirely overshadowed Itachi's struggles with his own questionable existence.

He could tell that his brother had grown immensely, even without having to rely on his sight. Sensing Sasuke's frustration surge over his fury, he let his brother swing his signature move again, giving him another chance at close combat while trying to gratify his own desire to capture an image of the boy in front of him.

As foolish as it was with his life so close to ending, he had an inexplicable urge to see his brother one last time - to feel proud of him as an older brother would, if nothing but for having grown into a strong young man. Despite his disapproval of some of the choices his otouto had made, he was proud of the determination Sasuke had shown all these years. And now, finally, Itachi was more than willing to accept death at his hands.

He doubled over in a brief lapse of self-control. Fluid dribbled from his lips as heaving lungs expelled crimson into his awaiting hands.

Truthfully, it was quite ironic, and if he were a different man, he may have laughed out loud at fate's sheer mockery. Itachi had found reason to live with his brother's birth and had ensured Sasuke's survival through the massacre, only to orchestrate his own demise at the hands of the very same brother. He was only too happy that this flawed cycle would meet its end.

 _Death…_

It came as no surprise that he didn't fear the impending end to his life. He felt only acceptance and, funny enough, peace as his brother's killing intent intensified. He let his mind wander back to better times – not so much for himself, but for Sasuke - when the little boy had regarded his niisan with nothing short of admiration and utmost loyalty, so oblivious to the ways of a cruel clan. For the first time in a long time, he found himself wishing there'd been another way - another life worthy of his loving little brother. Kami knew Sasuke hadn't deserved any of this.

Fooling Sasuke, to pretend to seek his eyes for himself, had been all too easy. He hoped it would push his otouto to speed things along. The added damage to his body from the strain of the battle only amplified his pain, intensifying his desire to just succumb to darkness already. At this rate, his minimal efforts to block Sasuke's attacks as well as quickly depleting his chakra reserves would surely ensure that his body shut down at the end of this battle.

He felt only satisfaction as his Susanoo tore away at the snake sannin who'd latched himself onto his precious brother like a parasite. A sense of relief washed over him just as his body faltered. This was it - he could feel it.

He began his final steps toward his brother, kept from dropping to his knees by sheer willpower. He feebly wished for rain - just in case his body betrayed him and let fall stray tears in its final moments.

His brother stood frozen and staring back at him.

Itachi's hand trembled as it rose, reaching for him. A smile tugged at his lips as he readied himself to say goodbye.

 _Sasuke…_

 _'Sorry Sasuke, maybe next time.'_

 _'Another time, Sasuke.'_

 _'Not now, Sasuke, maybe some other time.'_

Two fingers nudged the boy's forehead in an affectionate tap; he could no more read his brother's reaction than he could see him.

Itachi smiled. "Sorry, Sasuke… There won't be a next time."

Darkness closed in around him, and his consciousness slipped away, granting him his long-awaited peace.

 _I love you, my dear little brother._

* * *

Sasuke remained entirely paralyzed as he watched his brother stumble, fall, and rest unmoving on the stone-cold ground.

Time stood still for a brief moment that, to him, felt like an eternity.

And then came the waves of tormenting disbelief; they swept in, unyielding, pulling him under and swallowing him whole. His body spasmed and air burst from his lungs in short, sporadic spurts. His pounding heart was the only indication that this was indeed reality.

It was a long time before he took note of the trails that streaked his face, but coherency was a distant concept and he could only detachedly wonder the implications of the wet tracks. Soon enough – within seconds, minutes, or hours – fresh streams followed, and he distantly registered that it was raining.

 _Rain…_

It made him restless. The pestering drops pounded his skin, smothering him in feather-light caresses of false comfort, setting his highly strung nerves further on edge.

A flood of exhaustion slammed into him then, draining the last of his energy reserves as the strain of the battle caught up to his body. He could do little more than grunt as he fell, sprawling beside his brother's dead body. Sasuke's mind reeled, unable to process the words dead and his brother in the same sentence, before conscious thought hit a blank and he remembered no more.

* * *

There was a shift in the air just as awareness was lost to the younger Uchiha. A figure materialized, seemingly out of nothing, in the eerily silent clearing. The man, clad in a cloak and sporting an orange mask that hid all but his right eye, absorbed the scene that greeted him with detached interest. He approached the elder brother, taking a moment to look down at the fallen Uchiha prodigy, before swiftly reaching for the body and disappearing.

He re-emerged into an unlit backdrop inside four enclosed walls and laid him down. He only had minutes if he wished to delay a permanent death.

His fingers blurred through the jutsu - one of the parting gifts his late ancestor had bestowed on him just before his self-delayed demise. With the last of the signs, his hand descended on the Uchiha's chest.

A drawn-out moment followed, before a deep hum thrummed over the silence, originating from the still heart. It ended with an almost abrupt, faint clenching of the organ. A few seconds, and it repeated.

The man retracted, somewhat satisfied yet still unhappy with the result. The heart was beating, but insufficiently so – too slowly and too weakly. At this rate, any minor disturbance was bound to lead to its irreversible shutdown.

 _Damn you Itachi…_

His gaze traced over the still figure. How many times had this Uchiha defied him and caused more problems and headaches than he was worth? It seemed that, once again, the genius had deceived him.

Itachi had hidden the severity of his illness. This meant, of course, that the jutsu was inadequate.

He swallowed a growl of annoyance, barely refraining from reversing the jutsu and leaving him for dead. He needed Itachi stable enough to extract his memories, or else the body would resign long before he'd had a chance to gather what he needed.

He took a calming breath, reining in his anger. Time was running short; he had to tend to the younger Uchiha before Konoha reached their precious missing-nin.

The ensuing minutes saw the man reappear by the said boy's side, eyeing his rain drenched figure amid fumes from the smouldering flames. Again he vanished from view, this time with the younger brother.

* * *

She stood beside her teammate as they faced the aching, inevitable truth yet again.

Sasuke. Gone. As always, gone. Slipped through their fingers like smoke.

A mournful silence had settled over the remains of the Uchiha hideout, disturbed solely by a wailing wind and the patters of unrelenting rain. It was oddly soothing, as though the skies were weeping for their pain. She clenched her numb fingers into fists, willing strength to her resolve and feeling into her limbs. She'd vowed to be Naruto's rock the next time this happened - unwavering and reliable. Someone he could lean on. He'd gone to such great lengths for her when it came to their third teammate, and she had to be there for him this time around. After all, he was hurting just as much as her, if not more.

She gritted her teeth, ignoring the chilling cold seeping through her drenched clothes, and risked a glance at her teammate. He was unreadable, and seeing him like this cast ripples of pain anew on her suffering psyche. Her trembling fingers seized his hand, squeezing and relaying a meaning no word ever could in that moment.

"We're not giving up," their sensei announced, as though on cue. His gaze flickered between his two remaining students. "Not yet."

The despondent gleam in his eye betrayed the confidence in Kakashi's voice. She gazed at him grimly, watching his attempts to shove all emotion beneath the flimsy mask he always donned - both literally and figuratively - as he faced the members of Team 8, Sai, Yamato, and his old students. His lone eye settled on her, meeting her gaze squarely - recognition, understanding and assurance all in one - as he said, "We'll search for him until no traces remain. No matter how long it takes."

Naruto returned her firm grip, seemingly drawing strength from her frozen fingers. His hand felt so warm around hers that she couldn't help but feel gratified. She turned her gaze back to the boy she'd come to call her brother; his face had hardened with resolve, and as always, the untiring determination in his eye was enough to take her breath away.

Sakura accepted then that, despite her best efforts, he would remain as their source of strength simply because he was _Naruto_ and that was just who he was.

She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with stray fumes and wafts of wet-forest, and replaced her anguish with equal parts determination, giving a single, firm nod.

It was time to focus on the task at hand.

* * *

He considered the half-dead Uchiha Itachi before him with what would seem as utter indifference. In truth, his displeasure was barely under restraint.

Unfortunately, there were no changes to his weak heartbeat. It seemed that a slight change in strategy was necessary if he wished to succeed in this phase of his plans. He'd been so patient with the Uchiha, surely a new course of action was a possibility at this time.

He had to admire the Uchiha prodigy; he'd planned everything on his side remarkably well over the years. Itachi had known precisely how to drive his brother's frantic need for revenge, and he had delivered his acts flawlessly - and as reward, he'd finally been granted his long-awaited demise at his idiotic brother's hands.

 _'How…noble.'_ His face twisted in disdain, conveying his real thoughts over such heroics.

The genius would have been successful too. Unfortunately for Itachi, he'd had to put a stop to it.

For the longest time, he'd sought a solution to his problem that didn't involve Uchiha Itachi. His death would have worked to his advantage, sparing him the effort of dealing with the prodigy himself. After all, there was no denying that Itachi was exceedingly powerful and could very well pose a dangerous threat to his plans – even in his state of illness. Although, now having witnessed its severity, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd have stood a chance at defeating Itachi himself without having had to wait for Sasuke...

Speaking of.

Uchiha Sasuke. How predictable.

His conversation with the boy had gone quite as expected, minus the little surprise Itachi had arranged at his expense. Sasuke had denied everything, of course. He supposed it must have been difficult to swallow; reality as the boy knew it had collapsed around him.

It'd required some convincing on his part, but the boy had finally come around. He simply needed time, maybe a nudge in the right direction, and Sasuke would be right where he wanted him. It was a shame he couldn't provide the boy with Itachi's eyes just yet, but the time for that would surely come once he finished his business with the elder Uchiha.

It was frustrating, really. He was so close to his goal - one he'd been chasing since even before the massacre. At long last, the answers he needed were barely a few feet away, in the brilliant mind before him. All he had to do was stabilize the body long enough for it to withstand the assault of his Sharingan. He couldn't afford to have him die midway through. After he was through with the man, Itachi was free to die as he wished. In fact, he'd be pleased to offer his own services for the job.

His mind began to wander as he weighed the options available to him. He needed a medic-nin, that much was clear. But he had no time to waste with inadequate skill. No - he needed someone capable, efficient.

Tsunade was, of course, the very best at medical ninjutsu, but it would be more than problematic to attempt to abduct the Hokage.

The next best, then.

Really, the perfect candidate was right under his nose. In fact she had been, quite literally, just prior to the end of the Uchiha brothers' final battle.

He knew little about Haruno Sakura. She was the third member of Kakashi's former team, alongside Sasuke and the Kyuubi vessel, and happened to be the Godaime's apprentice. She'd caught his eye when she'd helped defeat Sasori, but despite this, he didn't expect much trouble from her.

Fortunately, she was currently nowhere near the safe haven of her village. It would be all too easy to get to her.

Satisfied, he spared one last glance at the body before slowly vanishing from view, taking with him the sole source of light in the room: the bright, crimson gleam of a Sharingan.

* * *

She crouched on the balls of her feet, mindlessly twirlingly a kunai around her index finger. A tentative sigh escaped her lips. She was growing more restless with every passing second - every second they came away empty-handed.

They'd just finished setting up camp for a few hours of much-needed rest. She knew she ought to feel exhausted after their near non-stop search for their missing teammate, but it seemed as though her body was on an endless supply of adrenaline. It had now been four days; she'd barely gotten six hours of less-than-adequate sleep since the start of their search, and now observing her agitated teammate as he paced along the clearing, she was positive he'd gotten close to none.

The rest of their group were visibly drained. Hinata had succumbed to sleep the instant her head had grazed Shino's shoulder. Said boy was seated against a tree, his eyes shielded by his glasses. Sai was lounging on a branch, his customary notebook draped over his face, and Yamato sat cross-legged by the fire, gaze lost to flames licking at charred wood. Kakashi, Kiba and Akamaru were the sole absentees, yet to return from their latest patrol to locate what little trace remained of Sasuke.

She was so lost in thought that she jerked, startled, when her teammate lowered himself in front of her, catching her gaze with solemn eyes that tugged at her heartstrings. It was an alien expression for his features. Unheeding fingers reached and intercepted the twirling kunai, removing it from her grasp. He inspected the weapon idly, drawing a clean line of red when it grazed his thumb.

"You'd think it'd get easier to say this, but," he began, his husky voice even rougher sounding, and turned his head like he couldn't meet her eyes, "I'm sorry, Sakura-chan."

Sakura studied his side profile, noting the tense jaw, the downturned lips, and the crease over his left eyebrow. She reached for his hand and held his bleeding finger between two of her own, gently rubbing over the skin to wipe the maroon droplets after sending a quick pulse of her healing chakra.

"You should know better than to keep apologizing to me, ne Naruto?"

Her playful lilt did nothing to hide the earnest meaning behind her words. He should have known better after all these years; they'd had this conversation a countless number of times, and not unlike those times, he simply wouldn't stop apologizing - and naturally, she wouldn't cease asking him to stop.

She sighed, and the simple act helped ease the tension in her constricted chest. "It was years ago that I begged you to bring him back for me. We both know it was a foolish request on my part." She tilted her head in an effort to draw his eyes. "The weak girl who dumped this burden on your shoulders is no more, Naruto."

The wrinkles across his brow grew more pronounced as he turned back to her, and she caught sparks of grief within the depthless blue of his gaze. "I know you're not weak Sakura-chan," he said, "but I made you a promise. If anything, I made myself a promise." His ocean eyes pierced into her emeralds in earnest. "You were my Sakura-chan - still, you're my Sakura-chan - and I don't go back on my word. Especially not to you."

He paused. All the fight seemed to drain out of him. "I know we can bring him back together, but…" His fists clenched over his knees. "I can't help but feel responsible for the bastard leaving," he murmured in a tone that was so foreign in its maturity and severity. "I couldn't show him that choosing loneliness was a mistake. I've been in his place Sakura-chan, and I need his stubborn ass to see that he doesn't need to push people away." He stared at an indiscernible point over her shoulder, mind lost to memories that triggered his raging thoughts.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears. All Sakura could do was offer him a smile she kept reserved just for him. There was nothing more to be said. She reached for his forehead and pulled at the disturbing crease between his brows, smoothening it with a light stroke of her fingertips. His eyes flicked back to her glassy orbs, and she was rewarded with a muted version of his trademarked foxy grin. She returned it with a sigh, reaching to coax her fingers through his disheveled mane with idle motherly affection. He'd need another haircut soon. It was remarkable, how much he'd grown...

Physically, of course, was unquestionably evident. He easily towered over her now; gone were the childish hues, irrevocably replaced by sharp, mature lines. The faint golden stubble on his chin – frequently omitted of a trim on account of his negligence – was a constant reminder of this fact. Sometimes she had to do a double take when she looked his way and didn't see the short, annoying kid he used to be in her eyes. The changes weren't solely physical, however.

The luminous depths of his ocean eyes, reminiscent of a sun at its maturest days, now reflected wisdom that came only with age, keeping his share of tribulations on hidden display. Despite this, his unrelentingly childish ways were yet to be discontinued, much to her dismay at times. His happiness-radiating ambiance was ever-present, persistently honing the impressions he left on those whose lives he touched. One had to be among the few who truly knew him to spot the remnants of heartache that lingered behind his eyes.

They had grown very close – much closer than she'd ever thought possible when they were twelve. It'd been a gradual friendship that'd sparked over mutual hardships. Naruto's absence during his training with Jiraiya-sama had only favored their cause; they'd had time to reflect throughout their time apart and had both matured in their distinctive ways. And upon their reunion, the connection had been all the stronger. She based it on the fact that they'd simply shared too much together.

The moment was interrupted with the arrival of the rest of their team. Kiba got comfortable immediately, plopping himself down against Akamaru to get some much needed sleep. Kakashi peered in their direction, aware of the nature of their conversation. They turned to him expectantly, wordlessly searching his eyes for news. His sole response, much to their dismay, was a faint shake of his head.

Left with nothing more to say, Sakura rose from her crouch and climbed the towering foliage to settle down for her night shift. The persistent clouds of the past four days had cleared, leaving the moon to hang unobstructed. It wasn't quite a full moon, but it was close enough. The mystical glow caressed the forest, reaching far beyond what was visible to the human eye. Basking in its rays brought a small smile to her lips; it was breathtaking.

Unhindered thoughts carried her to Sasuke. Where was he now? Was he happy? Had his revenge granted him all that he'd hoped for? Was he injured from the battle? And why was he not here, given that his goal was now complete?

It was to be expected that she was mulling over him, she supposed; after all, he was their target. And yet, she reckoned it was worth coming to terms with the fact that perhaps she no longer saw the boy in the same light. He still stole over her thoughts of course, but gradually, the instances had started to occur less and less. Maybe time had done its wonders, or maybe she'd just been too occupied over the past few years to keep him in her thoughts. Her shishou had certainly seen to that.

Training under Tsunade had been – and still was – the most challenging phase of her life thus far. The woman always pushed her to her absolute limits. Sakura had believed on several occasions that she would likely die from overexertion - or if not, worse, fail. On any given night Sakura barely made it home to her bed, often finding herself succumb to sleep at the hospital in favour of the additional minutes of rest that'd be lost to travel time. Nevertheless, time had seen her adjust to this new life. Not because it grew less demanding - it got more challenging, in fact – but perhaps because she'd grown accustomed to the unforgiving ways of her shishou, refusing to condone failure whilst meeting her expectations.

It was clear to her that she would always care for Sasuke. He'd been an integral part of her life. If anything, she had him to thank for her persistent resolve to grow stronger - initially a feeble excuse to assist Naruto in his attempts to bring him back. And for that, and for the sake of the countless memories they'd shared, Sasuke would always hold a special place in her heart. But at times, Sakura found herself questioning what she'd ever seen in the boy given his cold demeanor. He'd certainly changed a whole lot from the little seven year-old boy she'd admired from afar, or the brave twelve year-old genin who would have given his life to protect his teammates. Near the end of their time as Team 7, Sasuke had done little to earn her unwavering love and devotion. Either way, she'd have to wait for their next encounter to reassess her feelings.

A sharp, muffled hiss suspended her musings, snapping her to attention. A wheezing came next, and she was granted a split second warning before she felt more than she saw an arm reaching out for her from the darkness of the canopy. With no amount of thinking, she flung herself off the edge of her branch, twisting mid-air to hurl two kunai in the direction of the assault. The weapons whipped down their trajectory before inexplicably growing silent without an indication of having found a target. Her eyes narrowed as she began a free-fall, pumping chakra to the soles of her feet to greet the fast-approaching ground. She landed in the middle of their camp, prompting a deep rumble from the earth.

Vaguely she registered the rest of her team - on their feet and ready to handle the disturbance. Strangely enough, she no longer sensed the intruder. At all. It was as if they'd vanished.

"Hinata."

On Kakashi's cue, the Byakugan wielder began scanning their surroundings. The veins around her eyes wrinkled. "I don't see anyone…"

The words had barely left her lips when Sakura's senses prickled. The hissing returned - it was like air itself was being sucked out of their surroundings - and the subject of their apprehension materialized within their sights, perched on a branch and silently surveying their group.

The Konoha-nin visibly tensed in recognition when they saw the man who'd intercepted their team only days ago - Tobi was his name. He looked the same; an orange mask shielded his face from view while the cloud-patterned Akatsuki cloak rippled at his feet.

Sakura registered the near-indiscernible twitch to Kakashi's foot, aware of the Sharingan blazing on his left eye as he strategized. This "Tobi" ought to have been at a disadvantage by their sheer numbers, but she wasn't heedless of their state of exhaustion. Considering this and unwilling to fool herself into optimism, she realized dimly that they may just be fucked. She could hardly delude herself into thinking that he may be here for another casual chat. She surmised, with a sinking feeling, that this time, she had a pretty good idea of his point of interest. Said interest stood to her right, visibly taut and more than ready to pounce.

Well - if Tobi wanted her friend, he would have to go through her first.

Just as she took a measured step to obstruct the man's path to Naruto, their target seemingly vanished once again. Sakura's muscles hadn't even tensed in preparation when he began to reemerge right in front of her, reaching with a swift arm not unlike a few seconds ago.

Startled, all Sakura had the sense to do was gauge the man's proximity to Naruto at his new positioning, and she reacted at lightning speed; with no amount of thinking, she flung herself at her teammate to shove him out of harm's way.

The raucous uproar of the next split second was deafening, crippling, and simultaneous: the wheezing and whistling of Sai's barrage of kunai as they whipped toward the target, Kakashi's mutter of a jutsu with the last of his hand signs, the astounding crack of splintering wood courtesy of Yamato, and Akamaru's growl tearing over the commotion.

She hadn't yet held her breath in anticipation of the chaos when her bearings began to spin out of control in the same instant that a hand seized her left shoulder. The last image she registered was that of Naruto frozen in shock, his lips parted mid-yell and features twisted in bewilderment, before she found herself crushed under an unworldly mass that pulverized her senses. Submerged in an airless vicinity of pitch-black nothing, of deafening silence. The suffocating pressure forced every last drop of oxygen from her lungs.

It was gone as quickly as it'd begun, leaving dizzying nausea in its wake. She released a throaty gasp, gulping her demand of air as though she'd broken surface in a current, and collapsed on the stone-cold ground in the all-consuming darkness.

Once her gasps had diminished to coughs, she heaved herself to her feet and shifted to a defensive stance, frantic gaze darting around in the dark.

Where was she?

A dim lantern came to life on a far wall, holding a single flame that did little to provide sufficient lighting. She blinked against the assault on her sensitive eyes before quickly surveying the room to find no impending threats.

What she found, instead, was much worse.

Sakura stood, rooted to the spot, and fixed her wide eyes on the still figure just a few steps away. The blood froze in her veins.

The body was visibly unconscious – could have been a corpse for the insufficient rise to its chest – but what instigated her hammering heart was the flicker of a light that rippled across his face before burying him in shadows once more. A dread like no other sunk into her gut, and Sakura found herself terrified to assess his condition.

It was with trembling limbs that she lowered herself beside him, just as another glimmer coasted along his features, allowing her a closer look. And suddenly, Sakura was back against the wall, reeling, scrambling, clinging for dear life. A choked scream died in her throat. Her heels slipped in her haste to distance herself, and her nails dug into cement hard enough to draw blood. Her fading nausea resurfaced with a vengeance, wrenching her insides and threatening to dispel the contents of her empty stomach.

She fought desperately to avert her eyes, but it seemed they couldn't be torn from him. His features held her gaze in an iron grip; Sakura was a prey, taken by the terror of having her predator at such close proximity. She feebly berated herself for mistaking the man's identity. Despite certain similarities, it would be hard to miss the familiar face of her old teammate. And this man was certainly not Sasuke.

It was Uchiha Itachi.

She'd seen him only once before, when her team had faced him in battle on their way to find Gaara. His features had been the least of her concerns, as she'd been too busy avoiding them on account of his eyes. She was happy to say that she hadn't been overly acquainted with him - likely one of the reasons why she'd lived to tell the tale.

He was alive? How was that possible? The Akatsuki had announced the battle's outcome only days ago - Sasuke had killed Itachi. She'd been there with the rest of her team to hear it for herself. And yet, given the weak heartbeat that thrummed over the silence, she didn't have to be a medic-nin to ascertain that he was alive – albeit barely, it seemed.

Swallowing thickly, Sakura stepped away from the wall, willing herself to keep composed. There was no need to be afraid; the Uchiha was no threat in his current condition.

She faltered. What should she do? Should she kill him? It'd be all too easy - a swift flick to his chest and the struggling heart would give out. Did Sasuke know that his brother lived? Would he be angry with her if she was the one to kill him? And what if Sasuke was also on the brink of death? As she continued to debate with herself, Sakura became increasingly aware of the fact that she had no idea where she was or why she'd been brought here. It'd almost been a full minute, and her abnormal solitude was concerning to say the least.

And then the familiar hiss was back, as if on cue.

Bracing herself, Sakura spun toward the sound, ready to pounce.

Tobi materialized, seemingly out of thin air, and sauntered up to the body. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to kill him."

Sakura reeled, and the back of her heel met resistance. "Why am I here?" she demanded, fisting her leathered hands at her sides. She wouldn't let him see her irresolution, but she was struggling to justify her predicament. The Akatsuki was after Naruto, not her.

Unless… Unless she was to be used as bait.

Her blood ran cold with the realization that Naruto would no doubt chase after the Akatsuki to find her.

The man's attention remained on the Uchiha, regarding the body with obvious disdain - he was yet to spare her a glance. A bone-chilling aura descended over the modest room, drawing goosebumps along her bare limbs. His air of nonchalance made him seem almost...bored, as though he were having to do chores before playtime.

Then suddenly, she became the abrupt focus of his scrutiny, and his single visible eye - his all-too-familiar crimson eye - caught her emerald orbs in a vice-like grip.

It was her frozen limbs and the remnants of her fast-depleting resolve that kept her from falling to her knees in utter terror. She stared, disbelievingly, hopelessly, into the depthless void of his Sharingan.

"You will heal Uchiha Itachi."


	2. Collared

**A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words of encouragement! It is indeed my first time writing a Fanfic, and I'm really enjoying it so far. I'd love to hear what you all think, so if you'd like to, feel free to leave a review!**

 **Have a good read!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

 ** _~ More Than Meets The Eye ~_**

The words echoed in her ears, loud and harrowing, as her mind relapsed to a state of frenzy.

 _"You will heal Uchiha Itachi."_

Over the next prolonged seconds – during which the implications of the man's request swallowed her whole and spat her back out in broken, crumbled pieces – adrenaline burst into her system, dissolving the ice within her muscle fibers that'd left her body frozen since the reappearance of her captor.

"No." Her voice reached her ears long after the vibrations on her tongue had eased: an alien sound warped with fear, fury and fortitude.

Tobi's eye flickered with amusement, likely fetched from her monosyllabic defiance. "Oh?" he said with a minute tip of his head that Sakura would have missed had her senses not been utterly fixated on him.

The man's mockery only fuelled the fire that had sparked to life moments ago, and her mind certain, having worked faster than ever before in the seconds prior, she did the only plausible thing in her state of limited options: she attacked.

She lunged forward with a raised fist and an adrenaline surged speed, intently avoiding the single crimson eye before her. In a blink, her punch had struck the opposite wall, and the impact drew a low groan that resonated through the enclosed space. But much to Sakura's shock, there was no damage to be seen under the wrath of her deadly fist, and her stomach sank in trepidation when she sensed the chakra shields weaved across the four walls.

Trembling with emotions akin to terror and rage, she slowly turned around. The Akatsuki member hadn't moved an inch.

She'd passed right through him.

Dread filled her to the core as panic and despair fought for victory amid her working brain. She tried again, this time adding shuriken to her attack. It was a futile attempt, driven purely by a survival instinct she had no control over.

After her fourth attempt, the man finally moved, whipping toward her in such speeds that Sakura registered the crack of her skull long before she'd even felt his hand close around her throat. Warm liquid trickled down the wall and over the back of her neck. Stars danced in her sight.

"You are pathetically stubborn, kunoichi."

The hint of annoyance in his ice-cold voice snapped Sakura out of her daze. She reached for the arm holding her in place with chakra infused hands, but he evaded the contact, swiftly withdrawing to grab a fistful of her pink locks before hauling her across the room to smash against the opposite wall.

Stray strands of hair floated in her periphery, but her only concern was the faint onset of a concussion. A quiet groan left her lips as she made a feeble attempt to lift herself to her feet.

"You will do as I say, kunoichi," he said with calm certainty. His cloak swayed to his steps as he approached - each casual, each unhurried. "You're in no position to defy me."

Sakura managed to pull herself up to a sitting position, but then found herself trapped once again, held by an unwavering hand around her throat. She made a frail sound of protest, blinking furiously and pleading with her eyes to combat the blurs in an effort to return to her senses.

"Heal him," he commanded. The finality in his tone was indication enough that this was her last chance to yield.

With her feeble croak of a "No", Tobi's free hand flicked her head back, effortlessly bringing her eyes to his line of sight. "If that's how you wish to do this," he murmured in tones more fitting of polite conversation before catching her hazy eyes, not twitching in the slightest as a gut-wrenching, throaty scream filled the small space and rebounded off the walls in the next second.

* * *

It was white. Blindingly, luminously white.

Vaguely she wondered - why did people claim to see shades of red when confronted with pain? Perhaps there were degrees to it – different natures of pain – that determined the ways in which your senses reacted to the stimuli. Surely however, a colour as vibrant as red, despite its connotations with blood and all things violence, would provide a nice sight compared to this all-consuming white.

Scorching, blistering, heart wrenching white.

White wasn't even a colour, she recalled. It was a blend of all colours. This made sense to her, then. If pain was a result of the overstimulation of one's senses – and surely in that moment every corner of her senses was overstimulated – then it was perfectly reasonable that she saw only white. Like a mix of all colours, it was a mix of all her senses.

It was burning her. No, not quite burning – it was eating at her. She deliberated idly that this must be what embracing the sun would feel like, if it was within the realm of possibility for one to get close enough.

Who was she? Where was she? Why was she in agony? She had none of the answers, and her confusion left her frustrated.

All too suddenly, a slight tug from the depths of her conscience made itself known, slowly washing over her not unlike a refreshing summer breeze. Before she'd had a chance to bask in its welcoming embrace or even analyze this new sensation, the pain was swiftly swept away, leaving a comforting blankness in its wake and granting her her desperate reprieve.

* * *

"SAKURA! SAKURA-CHAN!"

Frantic would be one word to describe Uzumaki Naruto in that moment; he was breathless, desperate and running around like a madman.

She had just. Vanished. Right before their eyes. That Tobi man had grabbed her. He had _disappeared_ with her, and Naruto's heart gave a violent shudder as he recalled the previous times they'd attempted to track down the Akatsuki and inevitably failed.

How long had it been? Likely minutes, but it felt like hours to him. They'd scattered immediately, not even caring for orders to try and uncover even the faintest of her scents under the moonlit forest. He knew he wasn't thinking straight; he was sprinting around on impulse, having allowed panic to swallow him whole. He didn't know how to stop - he didn't _care_ to stop - and he was vaguely aware that their sensei was in a similar state, caught in his own whirlwind of fear.

Fear, combined with the dreadful feeling of not-knowing, was a dangerous mix and had led them to their current state of desperation.

"SAKURA!"

His throat was sore, his chest was in shreds, but worst of all, the relentless image from moments ago was scorching his eyes and his mind in equal measure; she'd been looking at him, mid-lunge and reaching for him, her features set in determination and fear – fear for him. For him. They wanted him. Why had they taken her?

"Naruto! Kakashi-senpai!"

Yamato's voice, calm and grave, barely breeched his senses. He saw his sensei halt a ways to his left, but he wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop.

"Naruto."

His strained name on Kakashi's lips made him falter. He rounded on the two and violently shook his head, foreseeing their logically reasoned argument. "We have no time to waste! Every second counts Kakashi-sensei!" he yelled. Naruto didn't recognize his own voice.

"I know."

"Then stop standing there! SAKURA-CHAN!"

"Yelling her name is not likely to be helpful," Sai cut in, landing on an adjacent branch. Naruto's gaze snapped to his pale features, finding his brows knitted and face slightly contorted - the only indications of his concern. He growled and clenched his jaw, not wanting to lash out at his friend for stating the obvious.

Yamato surveyed the two. "We need to try and think with clear heads," he began. "If we reevaluate what we know of the Akatsuki's agenda, we may be better able to understand their interest in her. And if we know the reason, we might know where to go looking for her." He turned to Kakashi. "It might also be a good idea to contact Hokage-sama."

There was a significant stretch of silence, before Kakashi tilted his head ever so slightly in Yamato's direction. "Arigatou, Yamato," he said quietly, and when he spoke next, his voice carried a resolute authority Naruto couldn't remember ever hearing before. "Yamato's right. They could be miles from here and we're only wasting our time. Sai"—he turned to the boy—"I'll leave it to you to send word to Konoha. I expect a fast transmission." Sai nodded, reaching for his ink.

Kakashi looked over the rest of the group. "We'll stop and set up camp until sunrise. I think," he said, peering at Naruto from the corner of his eye, "we could all use some rest to gather our thoughts."

Naruto gritted his teeth, meeting the gaze that said nothing and everything all at once. Sitting still for the next few hours filled him with dread, but even though his panic hadn't dissipated in the least, he could already hear logic calling for attention in the back of his mind, telling him that this was their best option.

Shallow, laboured breaths puffed out of his lips as he gazed across the nighttime forest, refusing to meet the worried eyes drilling into his back.

 _Sakura-chan… I_ will _find you._

* * *

It felt like whiplash - like being sucked through a tunnel too fast and emerging from the other side disoriented. Nausea was a welcome reality and helped focus her thoughts on something tangible. She refrained from opening her eyes for as long as possible, finding relief in the comforting darkness after the overly stimulating white of her recent memories. Her senses returned in tingles, one by one, until the pounding in her head rose to a crescendo, almost crippling her in its agony. Desperate for a distraction, she felt for the rest of her body, consciously wiggling her toes first, then flexing the muscles of her legs, and met resistance when she tried to move her arms. Puzzled, she frowned, readying herself to seek the source of the problem.

Although the room was dim in lighting, it still took Sakura a moment to adjust to the orange-yellow hues that flickered across the four walls. The colour was strikingly vibrant to her sensitive eyes. Shadows danced around the room as the single flame fought to stay alive, and the dazed girl found herself admiring the warm tones.

She lifted her gaze sluggishly, her head lolling back with the effort, and the chains rattled just as her eyes met the contraptions. Right, so her arms were unavailable at the moment. That was not good. She tapped at the chakra points on her upper limbs for a quick assessment and expectedly came away empty-handed. Chakra suppressing chains. That was also not good.

She was far from her best state, she knew. The chains held her arms vertically to the wall, putting an agonizing strain on her shoulders, and her body rested half-sat-half-slumped on the chilling ground. In addition to her physical restraints, her thoughts were muddled, her perception skewed, and everything seemed fuzzy as though she was trapped underwater. Minutes passed as she fought to gather herself, and frame by frame the events returned to her. But with awareness came the reality of her desperate situation. Tobi was currently absent, but she knew he would be back, and she knew there would only be a repeat of what had already occurred.

She winced as the traumatizing memory of her recent suffering resurfaced. She couldn't quite explain it; perhaps because it was the Sharingan that had served as the medium of torture, but it hadn't felt like any genjutsu she'd ever encountered before. That was to be expected, she supposed. After all, the Sharingan was the master of genjutsu. All she'd felt was excruciating pain - physical, mental, _intangible,_ yet so real at the same time. Its intensity had made her forget who she was.

She was positive she was suffering from a head injury, not to mention a concussion. The throbbing was making it difficult to form thoughts, and she could only sense a sluggish ten percent of her chakra. It would likely be kept at that level for as long as she remained in these chains, so she had little hope for a full recovery in the near future. Either way, setting her priorities, she decided it would be wise to heal some of the damage on her head to ease her ability to think of a way out of her predicament.

She drew chakra to her skull, brows knitting in concentration. Healing without the use of hands to centre chakra was extremely difficult and tedious - close to impossible, really - not to mention draining on chakra reserves, but she had limited options in her current state. It took her much, much longer than it normally would, but she was eventually satisfied when the pain ebbed away to a manageable degree. It was nowhere completely healed – she would need her hands for that – but it was no longer critical. She was only too happy that her skull had made it out in one piece.

Crippling exhaustion slammed into her then. She gave a quiet grunt, wondering how much time had passed since she'd been brought here. It was impossible to determine the time of day; there were no windows to speak of. In fact, upon a closer look around the square room, she noted that it was completely bare except for the faint outline of a door on the far-right corner - though closer inspection said it hadn't been used in years. Aside from the single flame cradled on the wall, there was nothing around her. Except for Uchiha Itachi's body, of course.

It lay in the middle of the room, barely a few feet away, and Sakura found herself staring as the shadows roamed his face almost delicately, bending over the hard, masculine edges and casting illusionary expressions onto his features. His presence was a reminder of her predicament, and it drew an unbidden bout of rage out of her. Really, this was all her own fault. She'd completely misjudged the intentions of the Akatsuki member; she'd had no way of knowing he wouldn't rush for Naruto, but she should have been more attentive, more alert.

A painful swallow made its way down her throat. It was definitely an unexpected turn of events - no doubt the rest of her team was just as shocked with her disappearance.

 _Naruto…_

Guilt tugged at her heart as she imagined her friend's current level of distress over her safety. Another spike of fury rose from her chest, her limbs trembling with the sudden onslaught of emotion; she was weak. Once again, she'd found herself in a helpless situation with no way of getting out. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she was never strong enough. Never good enough. She hated, hated, hated it.

Sakura inhaled a shaky breath, attempting to gather her resolve. She had to escape. If anything for Naruto's sake.

And with that thought still lingering in her mind, she was no longer alone.

Body tense and features set in determination, she glared at a red cloud on his cloak, eyes tracing its outline as she adamantly avoided his blazing Sharingan. Fear remained trapped; her resolve at enduring the impending torture had shoved it down. She took to repeating Naruto's name like a mantra, welcoming the courage, the strength that wrapped around her like an embrace.

"Heal him," he said, and Sakura heard not a hint of emotion in his voice.

"No." There was no need to delay the inevitable. She was ready to focus, to keep a hold on her sanity.

She could feel his single eye on her, cruel and unblinking, and in the next second, her head was pulled back. Emeralds widened as they met crimson.

* * *

Kakashi stood with his hands fisted in his pockets as he watched the group assemble around him. He refrained from fidgeting in impatience, albeit barely so - a testament of the discipline that came only with years' worth of experience. They'd gotten some rest, had a sufficient meal - except for himself and Naruto - and had set up camp. They could finally get started.

The previous night, after agitatedly counting down the minutes until sunrise with the excuse of needing to rest, the group had travelled to the nearest settlement to restock their supplies ahead of the extensive strategizing they were due to begin. Kakashi had expressed the need for everyone to be well fed and rested if they were to be at their best for this – and they had to be – and still he'd been unable to prevent the eagerness from seeping in, an irrational voice berating him for wasting time instead of finding her.

He had to maintain a clear head if he wished to concentrate fully; he was the mission leader, and thus there came a certain level of expectation. Naruto relied on him. _Sakura_ relied on him. Perhaps that was the source of his distress: the fact that his old student's life could very well be rested on his shoulders.

He could remember perfectly the last time he'd felt this hopeless, and the memory was an unwelcome reminder that twisted his insides into a gut-wrenching knot. He had to ensure that this time, he brought his teammate home. Alive.

His single eye drifted over to the blonde boy in the crowd; Naruto hadn't spoken a single word the entire day, except to thank Hinata for her efforts to check on him. He wasn't taking this well at all, and Kakashi worried for his wellbeing in such an unstable condition - a state the Kyuubi could very well take advantage of.

He was immensely grateful for Yamato's presence. Not only had the younger man stepped in during Kakashi's lapse of focus, but he would also prove invaluable in the chance that Naruto lost control.

His gaze swept over the expectant group one final time before he began. "We'll start by reassessing the intel we possess on the Akatsuki," he said. "We don't have access to confidential documents stored in Konoha, so we need to make do with our current level of knowledge. To return to the village and regroup would cost us valuable time."

He met each pair of eyes, one by one, commanding their undivided attention. "I am positive Hokage-sama will allocate members of Intelligence to further investigate possibilities and send us word of their progress. Until then, we do what we can here while continuing our efforts to locate any traces. Is that understood?"

There were nods in response.

Kakashi took a moment's pause before continuing. "Sakura is a fellow Konoha shinobi. She is our comrade. She is our _friend._ " His gaze caught Naruto's. "We will do everything in our power to find her...and I will do my very best in leading this team to success."

"We all will," Hinata said without a hint of hesitance. Her honest gaze met his, offering him gentle reassurance.

Kakashi nodded, appreciative of her support. He could only hope that their best would be enough.

It had to be.

* * *

Sakura blinked lead-heavy eyes - another attempt to keep a grasp on reality. It was hard. Her entire body was numb - s _he_ felt numb. Her senses came only in consecutive fragments: a twitch of her finger, then a rustle of her skirt, then the warmth of her breath, then the faint scent of a burning flame.

She'd opened her eyes not too long ago – well, it could have been hours really, she'd lost all concept of time – and she was finding it difficult to form tangible thoughts. Her exhaustion, lack of nutrition and sessions of senseless torture had caught up with her.

Tobi had come and gone eight times now – or maybe nine – leaving her to drift into oblivion after each session. He'd brought her water a few times and a soldier pill once, so Sakura could only guess that it was nearing two weeks since she'd been brought here. Dehydration would have been such a modest mode of death – so natural – if she thought about her current state of wellbeing, but it seemed like he was determined to keep her alive - which was just as well, because _she_ was just as determined to stay alive.

Sakura had considered killing herself the third time she'd opened her eyes. She'd still had the ability to form coherent thoughts back then, and she'd come to the realization that if she were made to heal a criminal – with or without her consent – she would incidentally be causing the deaths of all those who'd fall to the mighty Uchiha after his recovery, not to mention committing an act of treason. She'd decided this was reason enough to die, no matter the hurt she would cause those who cared for her. It would have been easy too; she needed minimal chakra to stop her heart. Yet the moment she'd made her decision, her shishou's voice had rung loud and clear in her mind.

 _"For most shinobi, it's a judgement call - the cost to their village in the event that the enemy attain the information they possess, versus the shinobi's value to their village with future service._ _However." Tsunade paused for a moment, eyes piercing into hers._ _"For medic-nin, it's a slightly different story - not to mention, for_ you _specifically, since you happen to be my disciple and have the potential to surpass me."_

 _Sakura swallowed._

 _"You are obligated to consider all lives – present and future, shinobi and civilian – you'd be abandoning if ever you find yourself having to make this call. And you will not, under any circumstances, make the wrong call. You can't_ afford _to make the wrong call. Understand me?"_

 _Sakura wrung her hands on her lap. "How will I know if I'm making the right call?"_

 _"Simple." Her shishou smirked. "Just make sure you don't have to make one in the first place."_

Recalling this conversation had effectively dismissed any further deliberations on the subject.

At least she'd grown somewhat accustomed to their routine. Although the sessions had gotten incrementally more painful – a feat she hadn't thought possible after the first – she was now familiar with his Sharingan, with the short-lived blankness that followed, and the vivacious pain that drove her to the edge of her sanity. It always ended the same: a slight tug that pulled her into darkness and she was no more until her eyes reopened to the room.

After some deliberation, she'd come to recognize the refreshing tug - her salvation - as none other than her inner self. It'd come as a pleasant surprise, that her mentality was being shielded from permanent damage. It had given her the confidence, the hope she needed to survive her predicament in one piece.

She let her gaze wander, seeking a distraction as she always did. Something tangible - _anything_ \- to keep her grounded. And as every other time, her eyes landed on the figure in the centre, as still as he'd been when she'd first laid eyes on him - still unmoving, still _there._

The sight had become familiar – even comforting. He was tangible, he was constant, and Sakura needed that consistency. Her eyes roamed over the features she'd come to memorize during her lonely hours of captivity. For a split second, the light flickered over his face at that particular angle, shaping a sight she'd come to yearn for; it was in those few moments that he most closely resembled Sasuke.

A glimpse would mistake the brothers for one another, but the similarities ended at a second glance. This man had more angular features, leaving no doubt of his older status. She'd noted that his hair was long, even longer than hers used to be, and lay sprawled around his head in a halo. He had pronounced tear troughs that lined both cheeks - she'd paid special attention to this feature, because it seemed to give him a look beyond his years, and Sakura had wondered the story behind the twin lines; she wondered whether he'd always had them, or if the life of a missing-nin had perhaps taken a toll on his complexion. But his single feature that gave him a softer, even feminine edge – that almost didn't fit in with the rest – were his eyelashes; long, thick and curvaceous, they graced his cheeks with dusky shadows in harmony to the flickering flame.

Blood, dirt and soot coated his skin. She speculated his wounds to be from his recent battle with Sasuke, and the thought of her long-missing teammate inflicting such severe damage - to an S-rank criminal, no less - filled her with dread. Perhaps also with some awe, but mostly dread. Dread and anxiety.

He looked oddly peaceful, as though he was in the midst of a blissful sleep. And if she squinted just right and tipped her head slightly to the left, his expression could even pass for a smile. The sight had lulled her living nightmares over and over - had eased her panic, assured her she wasn't alone. It wasn't hard to convince her clouded mind that he was just another person - maybe even Sasuke - and not a cold-blooded murderer. Only when she came to her senses, came to recognize him for what he was did she look away, squirming in her miserable state and dreaming of escapes. And perhaps it was another doing of her clouded judgement that she wasn't questioning his prolonged station on the brink of survival: half-alive despite his wounds - barely, as though suspended in limbo, but still alive.

She wondered for the umpteenth time what Naruto and Kakashi-sensei were doing. Her heart ached for theirs. She hoped they were okay. She hoped they weren't too worried. But most of all, she hoped Naruto had the sense to keep away from the Akatsuki. To stay safe. _Safe_... And then the soothing waves of sleep caressed her awareness and Sakura let them sweep her away, grateful for the peaceful getaway.

* * *

He narrowed his single visible eye. The girl was proving to be more trouble than he'd anticipated. He had expected the futile resistance, the stubbornness; after all, she was a Konoha kunoichi blinded by the so-called Will of Fire they held above their heads like a relentless prayer. And he was no foolish shinobi to underestimate an opponent - a reason for many of their kind's ultimate downfalls. Either way, despite her defiance, he'd expected her will - if not her - to shatter some time ago. It had now been ten days and his patience was wearing thin.

Initially, he'd kept the tortures at a tolerable level. She would be of no use to him with a vegetative brain and a lost sanity; however, following their first session when he'd felt the presence of a force trapping her consciousness, he had increased the degree of their ritual. But although at times it took longer, the tug continued to confine her mind, almost as if shielding it from damage.

A broken mumble reached his ears, and he peered at the unconscious girl as a new idea began to materialize in his mind.

A humourless smirk tugged at his lips. Konoha shinobi were indeed grossly predictable. Really, it should have occurred to him sooner. He crouched before the awakening kunoichi and grabbed a fistful of her hair to draw her eyes to his.

 _Would you resist if it were one of your loved ones, kunoichi?_

His Sharingan captured her eyes effortlessly, and the strain of the genjutsu knocked her out once more. He straightened and freed her arms of the chains; the contraptions had been necessary to prevent the replenishment of her chakra, but they were no longer needed. She needed her limbs when she woke up.

Satisfied, he turned to leave, briefly deliberating using the girl as bait for the Kyuubi. It seemed that they were quite close, he thought, recalling her distressed mumble from moments ago.

 _"Naruto…"_

* * *

For the first time since her capture, Sakura woke up feeling better than she'd felt before succumbing to oblivion. She stirred in her position, groaning at the numbness of her shoulder that lay trapped under the weight of her body. Confused, disoriented, but still more than energized, she sat up slowly to test her limbs. Her hands... She looked down, feeling the familiar surge of chakra circling her pathways - yet somehow it felt misplaced. Something wasn't right.

She let her gaze wander to observe her surroundings. The room was familiar. Nothing seemed out of place - but she couldn't quite remember where she was or how she'd come to be here.

And then her eyes found the sole other presence in the room, and her heart stumbled in its rhythm before shooting up to her throat.

He was a wreck.

Blood. It poured out in torrents, soaking into his clothes, into his skin, and pooling beneath his body. Her eyes couldn't pinpoint an individual source - there had to be multiple. Wounds marred his body from top to bottom. One in particular was on his chest; blood was gushing out at an alarming rate from a large gash. His hair had turned a dirty blonde; that soft, overgrown mane that she'd only recently raked her fingers through, now a mop of crusty old blood and ashes. Burns, puss, bones sticking out at awkward angles - she was having trouble absorbing it all. She was on him in a heartbeat, hands emitting the green glow of healing chakra over his chest. She'd never seen him in such a state.

She tried to remain calm, she really did. Now was not the time to panic. Now was the time to focus, to _save,_ but there was no stopping the tears that rushed down her face. They fell with abandon, ceaselessly spilling over him and turning the dark maroon of his blood to a bright crimson. What had happened? Who'd done this? Why couldn't she remember? And why was he alone - why had no one helped him?

"H-hold on for me, Naruto." Her voice sounded strong to her ears, betraying none of the raucous panic that swirled inside her chest.

She worked on strengthening his heartbeat. A forearm occasionally swiped at her eyes to clear her teary vision. All the while her chakra probed the rest of him, detecting the extensive damage to his major organs, all invisible to the naked eye. It was shocking - almost crippling so - when she realized most had accumulated over months, even years. A choked sob made its way past her lips and her mumbled reassurances grew more desperate.

She risked another peek at his ashen features - and jerked violently when she came face to face with Kakashi, his mop of silver hair in even worse disarray and his dark mask in tatters. A tortured sound rose in her throat and she whipped her head down, missing not a single beat as chakra continued to pour into his system. She worked quickly and efficiently, more than aware of the delicacy and urgency of the situation. There was no one else to help if she failed.

Panic had impeded her ability to reason, to question. All she knew was the soft buzzing of healing chakra at her fingertips and the rhythmic heartbeat of her loved ones beneath her steady hands. All the while her patient switched from Naruto, to Kakashi, Tsunade, Ino, Sasuke, her parents, and every other person she loved dearly.

It was sometime into her healing that Sakura, quite suddenly, hit a figurative wall. The green glow of her hands dimmed and the healing was discontinued. Frantic and frustrated, she resisted, gritting her teeth as she pushed her chakra through almost forcefully, but the harder she pushed, the more she was drawn into familiar darkness. It was fighting to overwhelm her, to trap her, to prevent her from saving them, and she wouldn't allow it. A strangled battle cry tore from her throat as she shoved against it with all the mental resolve she possessed. Sweat dribbled down her brow with the effort, but finally - finally - she burst through the dam, and the sweet breeze of soothing chakra that returned to her fingers almost brought tears of relief to her eyes.

She wasted no time in getting back to work. Once she'd mended his vital organs, she moved to a deep gash on Sasuke's forehead. Gently, she wiped the blood from his eyes before stroking his soft raven locks, soothingly pushing them off his face. The instant her chakra entered his stream, she was staggered by the severe strain on the chakra pathways in this area. It stretched from his temples, travelled across his optic nerves and pulsed over his eyes. She drew a finer string of chakra, growing more attentive - it was a delicate region that mandated meticulous attention. Her chakra pull became strenuous when her reserves reached dangerous lows, but she didn't cease her ministrations. Her hands travelled over the rest of him, attending to the less-vital abrasions that still marred his body.

By the time her chakra was near complete depletion and she was struggling to blink the blurs from her eyes, Ino was almost fully healed. But Sakura's mind was hazy, weak, terrified for her wellbeing. So she resisted her need to stop, pushing onwards, checking and double checking, replenishing blood stores, numbing the pain - paying more attention to this body beneath her fingertips than she had to any other. And sure enough, in the next moment, the green glow of her hands flickered like a dying lamp before perishing completely. She slumped forward, collapsing onto Naruto's chest with debilitating exhaustion.

Her last thought before she succumbed to oblivion was thanking Kami that they were safe.

* * *

A jet-black crow.

An ear-splitting caw. War.

Cries. Screams. Blood. Corpses littering the earth. Clash of metal. A crow's caw.

Uchiha.

A cliff. Wind whistling past his ears. A caw. Life.

A crow scattering to pieces. An outstretched hand. A young man suspended mid-air.

Crash of unforgiving waters. Death. Crimson.

Friend.

A new life. A crawling toddler. Coos. Cries. Smiles. Small hands.

Brother.

A shinobi's duty. A family. A village. A clan.

Clan's duty. Shinobi's duty.

Uchiha.

A cracked fan.

Corpses. Two bodies. Blood smeared over walls. Loyalty. Betrayal.

Dishonor.

Tears. Crimson eyes.

Cries. Corpses. Clashes. A cliff. A crash. Crimson. Crawling. Clan.

A crow's caw.

Crimson eyes snapped open.

Images continued their assault, as tangible as they'd been in real time. Broken sounds, feelings, memories - they flashed across his mind, blinding him and painting his conscience red. The bright red of blood, the almost silent, desperate cries of war, the nauseating guilt. He remained unmoving, enduring the torturous reminders.

Was he dead? He stared at the rocky ceiling in his line of sight, at the orange shadows flickering softly across the uneven surface. Perhaps this was hell. Perhaps he'd been left to suffer the horrors of his life as punishment for his sins, and this room was his cell.

The sound of a soft breath that was not his own reached his ears. He blinked sluggishly and lowered his gaze, eyes wandering to his chest.

Pink.

...Hair? Pink strands of hair, colored a darker shade under the dim light, lay sprawled across his front. And before he could muster a plausible reaction or even question what he was seeing, he realized something else entirely.

He blinked again. Hair. Individual strands of hair. He could see them all - the way thousands of distinct threads clustered and rippled into waves, the way they bent and lay messily in sharp contrast to the black of his shirt, the way a soft breath fluttered the light strands, causing them to repeatedly tremble and rest.

A sharp breath made its way into his lungs. It had been months – no, _years_ – since he'd last seen anything in such clear detail. Mesmerized, his hand twitched, eager to touch the delicate strands and confirm that they were in fact real, but the instant his fingers left the icy floor, he froze, muscles growing taut on an instinct that was entirely survival-based.

He was alive. This wasn't hell.

His blood-red eyes took in his surroundings at lightning speed: the four walls, the single flame, his ashy, blood coated skin and tattered clothes, and finally the unconscious girl on top of him.

A myriad of scenarios played out in his head as the full capacity of a brainpower that came only to a prodigy devised all possibilities with him ending up here, undoubtedly undead. He _had_ died, that was for certain. He'd felt his body resign - felt it in his bones - moments before he'd crumbled to the ground in front of his brother. And then there was nothing.

 _Madara._

It came as no surprise that his mind clued in the elder Uchiha as the most probable source for his plight. Over the years that he'd known him, the man's careful treads in Itachi's presence had been more than suspicious. Itachi had been aware of Madara's interest in him and had been almost doubtlessly certain of the reason why: Madara wanted to know what Itachi knew. He'd had an inkling that the man was quite eager - though he'd never known just how much. Still, Itachi had taken steps to ensure his failure.

It seemed that Madara had been a lot more eager than he could have expected. He must have been anticipating the end of his battle with Sasuke. And then...what? His attention was drawn back to the girl on his chest.

Haruno Sakura. His brother's old teammate.

She'd been among the group of Konoha-nin sent to locate him and, by extension, Sasuke. If the current state of his wellbeing was any indication, he could safely assume that she'd healed him. But if she was here, what did that mean for his brother? Better yet, if Madara had been desperate enough to have him healed - undoubtedly an unwilling move on the man's part considering the threat Itachi posed on him - what greater lengths would the elder Uchiha go to achieve his goals?

His blood ran cold. Was it really so difficult to imagine Madara sinking his claws into his brother under these circumstances? And succeeding, at that? Suddenly, Itachi was entirely doubtful of a single-use Amaterasu being enough to keep the elder Uchiha away from his brother - the Amaterasu he himself had placed in Sasuke's Sharingan. His eyes snapped back to the girl's form. Her being here meant that Itachi's plan had most likely failed. And in light of events taking a turn for the unexpected, Itachi also thought it highly probable that Madara had told Sasuke the truth at this point - at least if his hunches were anything to go by.

Unbidden anger pulsed through his veins. That was never supposed to happen. Itachi didn't believe Sasuke to be of sound mind just yet - not enough to make the right decision and return to Konoha, which left only a handful of possibilities for his current whereabouts, the most likely being with Madara. And if there was anything Itachi had learned about the man in all the years he'd known him, it was that the elder Uchiha was exceptional at pulling strings from the shadows to work matters to his own advantage.

In the case of this particular matter, it was all too easy to see Madara corrupting his brother enough to turn him against Konoha - and successfully gaining a viable ally on his evergoing quest to destroy their beloved village, which was _almost_ as bad as meddling with his brother.

Itachi's vision turned red for a brief moment as blinding rage consumed him in a rare lapse of self-control. Most was directed at Uchiha Madara, and in that instant, he truly believed that had the man been standing before him, Itachi would have made his first ever self-serving kill. Some of that anger, however, was reserved for himself for grossly underestimating the Uchiha - a notion that was entirely foreign to him.

Itachi flexed his muscles to test his bodily movements before gently shifting the girl to the ground. He rose on slightly shaky feet. There was no way of knowing how long he'd been in this state.

He glanced at the girl's prone form; considering where her allegiance lay, she'd likely been forced into the feat of healing him, and if her ragged state was any indication, she'd received her own share of troubles for her efforts. Nevertheless, her being here with him was a very odd stroke of luck on Itachi's part. Now that the choice of remaining dead had been yanked out of his hands, he'd have to continue doing his part for the sake of his brother and his village. And he had a good feeling that eventually having to deal with Madara would end up being a part of it.

But for now, Itachi had to make sure that Sasuke didn't catch a single glimpse of Haruno Sakura - at least until he'd had a chance to rectify the faulty plan he'd devised for his brother, now that he had a better idea of how far Madara was willing to go. And to do that, Itachi had to run - and bring her along before Madara returned.

Strength returned to his limbs with every passing second. He clenched and unclenched his fists, rolled his shoulders, and crouched on the balls of his feet. A brief inspection revealed the room to be underground with no means to physically enter or exit - convenient for Madara, who would be the sole person with access. Nevertheless, the situation was more than a little amiss; he couldn't sense Madara anywhere within close vicinity, and he found it hard to imagine that the man would allow Itachi's full recovery. But whatever had happened to work the circumstances in his favor, Itachi didn't have the luxury to complain.

He lifted the unconscious girl into his arms just as his Mangekyou began its hypnotic spin on his crimson eyes. The soothingly familiar flares of his Susanoo engulfed them both in the next moment, and the sudden rush of air perished the single struggling flame in the room. A deafening crash shook their surroundings as the stone walls collapsed and crumbled to dust around them. The enormous shield emerged from beneath the rubble, bathing its surroundings in the orange glow of its flames.

The armour dissolved as quickly as it'd appeared, and the young man was left to bolt into the forest with the sleeping kunoichi held soundly against his chest.

* * *

Naruto flew through the thick canopy, his feet grazing a shoot ever so often. The striking green of the forest had never felt so suffocating.

They were in the middle of another perimeter run, trying to locate even the faintest of traces left behind by his missing teammate. Kiba, Akamaru, Hinata and Yamato travelled alongside him; no one had uttered a word in hours.

After many hours of deliberation, they'd suspected the Akatsuki's motive to be one of three reasons: one, to bait Naruto to jump to her rescue and efficiently capture him in the process; two, to stir a reaction out of the Hokage for meddling with her precious apprentice and effectively declare war on Konoha; or three, to make use of Sakura's own skills.

Although the first reason seemed most logical given their knowledge of the Akatsuki collecting the nine bijuu, it made little sense since they'd vanished without a trace, leaving Naruto with no ability to follow in pursuit. As for the second reason - it was a likely possibility; however, with the longstanding bad-blood between their village and the Akatsuki, it would be foolish to put in the effort to, for lack of a better word, piss the ill-tempered Hokage off even further. Besides, if they had a new bone to pick with Konoha, they would have likely passed on a message to be delivered to her. From their latest contact, there'd been no such thing, thus plausibly eliminating this option.

This left the third – and really the simplest – explanation: that they needed her for her abilities. It wasn't difficult to gather said valuable ability as her healing, and even Naruto had found himself reaching this conclusion fairly quickly. So they could assume, to the best of their knowledge, that Sakura had been abducted to play doctor with the Akatsuki.

This was good news in a way, as they would be reluctant to harm her if they required her abilities; however, after Kakashi had made a point of voicing this thought, an agonizing, careful silence had followed. A single look at any one of their faces would have seen the same thought mirrored across their eyes; there was no way Sakura would heal S-rank criminals. This meant that she was either dead or was in the process of suffering a slow death in the hands of the most ruthless group of shinobi in existence.

Of course, the reason for her abduction had provided them with no indication as to where they could go looking for her, which was where they'd hit a dead end and had recommenced their blind search.

He swallowed another panic attack that fought to burst from his chest. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't rid himself of the thought that they weren't doing enough. That they should be doing more. That they'd wasted too much time, and Sakura could now be—

"Naruto-kun."

Yamato's voice cut through his frantic thoughts. No one turned to acknowledge the call; Yamato's gentle warnings had become a frequent occurrence. An effective distraction when the man believed him close to losing control. The Kyuubi's chakra gave a last wild swirl before retreating, and Naruto said nothing, once again seeking a distraction to prevent his thoughts from running haywire.

It had now been eleven days since the masked man had disappeared with his teammate, and every second since had felt more agonizing than the last. On the fourth day, Naruto had finally snapped - thrashing, trembling, yelling incoherent words of not doing enough to save her. Yamato had effectively controlled the two tails that had sprung free, trapping Naruto between strips of wood until he'd gradually calmed down. The next hour had found the group giving the remaining members of the original Team 7 some much needed privacy. The two had sat, carefully silent in each others' presence for a long while - a silence that'd spoken louder than any word ever could.

Not even Sai had mentioned the exchange, and they'd continued with their mission.

The group slowed their pace to descend on the underbrush. Kakashi, Shino and Sai were already waiting, having completed their own perimeter run.

When no one spoke, it became clear that both teams had returned empty-handed. Kakashi released a soft sigh.

The copy-nin was aware that they'd made some progress. They now understood the situation to an extent - and if his hunches were anything to go by, Kakashi was close to certain that they were accurate in their predictions. But this offered them no clues as to his ex-student's whereabouts, and the hopelessness was beginning to wear him down.

It was especially disconcerting that the Akatsuki member they were tracking seemed to utilize a mode of transport that was simply untrackable. Their efforts to sniff out scents felt almost futile when it was highly probable that neither Sakura nor Tobi had actually travelled these paths. But one could hope.

When he'd received word from the Hokage shortly after starting their efforts, he'd felt a glimmer of hope. Tsunade's note had been short, to-the-point, and written personally with faintly ragged lines indicating the trembling fingers that'd held the pen.

 _Two weeks for progress. Bring her home. She will be fine._

Her consoling words had offered him some strength, had eased the panic that swirled in his chest. Sakura was her student - more so than she was his, at this point - and she would know what the talented kunoichi was capable of; however, with so many days having come and gone and no further clues, he was growing restless once more. They had three days left.

He could only trust in her abilities to keep herself safe for now.

* * *

He saw it out of the corner of his eye; it soared through the branches to his left, releasing a purposeful screech and drawing Itachi to a halt. The crow took a sharp vertical turn and circled the canopy once, twice, thrice before diving headfirst toward him. It hovered at eye level for a moment, then softly landed on his shoulder, right by the sleeping girl's head. It cawed once, caught his eye, and let their gaze linger before taking flight just as swiftly, flapping jet-black wings to gain speed. It joined six others in the next moment, and together they formed a perfectly circular ring over the forest, singing tunes to their heart's content. After sparing a final glance, Itachi continued on his way.

He stopped late into the night. The cave was narrow and split into a concealed entrance, and Itachi knew the inside to provide satisfactory shelter. He'd been warned of the upcoming storm after all.

He entered the tight space and walked further inside, only setting the girl down when he reached the small cavern before retracing his steps. He gazed up at the faint, overcast glow of the moon; the night sun hung obscured by heavy clouds that promised a storm at a moment's notice. He took a deep, deep breath, letting the mossy scent consume him; his chest hadn't felt so light in years. It seemed that Haruno Sakura had healed a lot more of him than was necessary. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of his lungs expanding, of not tasting a drop of iron on his tongue. It'd been too long.

Flaps of wings reached his ears, and his hand shot up to catch the dropped object mid-air. He snapped a sharp piece of bark from a willow and began skinning the rabbit as the first drops of rain grazed his cheeks.

* * *

To say she was disorientated would be an understatement.

Sakura groaned, deep and tortured, as she fought the pulsing tremors shooting through her body; every muscle ached. A shaky breath entered her lungs, and she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to repress the fierce nausea that rampaged inside her, all the while racking her brains trying to remember what on earth had caused such drains on her chakra. An emerald eye peeked from under pale lashes to help place her bearings and was greeted by the familiar glimmering lights of amber on a rocky ceiling.

It all came flooding back.

She bolted upright, all reservations shoved aside - too fast; the head rush combined with her raging nausea had her doubling over. She dry-heaved frantically, stomach too empty to accommodate her need to expel its contents.

Gasping, moaning, panting - the desperate state of her body kept her rising dread at bay. She inhaled through her nose - inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale - and when she found herself safely able to swallow, she pushed up shakily before finally lifting her gaze.

The sight that greeted her surged a flood of adrenaline through her system. Senses expanded to the brink, she absorbed multiple things simultaneously: a wheezing - the harsh winds from the storm raging outside; the warmth of a crackling fire, blinding in its intensity just a few feet away; a wonderful smell - the sweet, sweet aroma of real food, so familiar yet foreign, that made her stomach spasm with need.

While her heightened senses instinctively analyzed these details, Sakura herself was rooted to the spot with terror.

There he was, just across the fire, with bloody eyes shining bright enough to light the small space they occupied. She couldn't move – but worse yet, she couldn't look away – as his gaze bore into hers.

The first thing about him to seize Sakura's attention was the acute contrast between the lethality of his eyes and the peacefully relaxed features of his face she'd grown oddly accustomed to. But under the scrutiny of crimson, she found herself questioning the state of her sanity during those dark hours of captivity if she'd come to perceive him as anything short of an icy, ruthless murderer.

Seconds dragged on like hours as Sakura sat frozen with dread, unable to tear her gaze from the unforgiving eyes of Uchiha Itachi. Questions flooded her mind as she tried to retrieve her hazy memories. The tortures - those were impossible to forget. But she hadn't relented. She couldn't remember healing him. How could he be sitting before her now, with a strong heartbeat pumping in his chest, when she hadn't healed him?

An image of Naruto broken and dying beneath her fingertips flashed across her mind. It felt so real - overwhelmingly so - that tears sprang to her eyes and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Genjutsu..."

The quiet, dawning realization of what she'd done slammed into Sakura in all its gravity. Her eyes widened in horror. How...? How could she have let this happen?

And then reality struck, setting her lips into a grim line of acceptance; shattering a Genjutsu cast by the Sharingan - by an Akatsuki member, no less - was a feat she couldn't hope to accomplish even on her best day. She'd fallen into its clutches - she'd given life to an S-rank criminal, to a missing-nin from her very own village. The man who'd slaughtered her first love's entire family. The man who wanted nothing more than to strip her teammate of his life force and leave him for dead. The man she hated more than any other.

And the man whose piercing gaze still held her own.

Sakura snapped back to her senses, jerking her eyes sharply away from his. She was a prey under the watchful stare of its predator, and her survival instincts kicked in, mind contemplating methods of escape as goosebumps rose along her bare skin.

"What am I doing here?" she demanded, voice surprisingly steady. Her gaze locked on the rugged wall over his head.

He showed no indication that he'd even heard her speak. His stare remained unperturbed, the unwavering intensity of his Sharingan boring into her form. Seconds passed and trailed into minutes before her frustration began to prickle, and she shifted her gaze back to his face, careful of omitting his eyes, to gauge his thoughts from his expression.

It was a challenging feat, to say the least. His forehead lay smooth and free of any lines of tension, his jaw hung lax, and his lips were set in a natural line; any indication of an emotion was simply absent. He was a perfect statue, carved out of icy stone and lacking any form of warmth or humanity. Sakura wondered vaguely if it was this demeanor that was cause for the unspoken ' _Run if you come across the infamous Uchiha Itachi_ ' motto that graced all Bingo books.

She was about to repeat her question, having returned empty handed from her observance, when he finally broke his silence.

"I believe an introduction is in order."

His tone was light and pleasant, as though they were meeting under completely normal circumstances. She almost recoiled in incredulity.

"I know who you are," she said. She'd meant to sound accusing, but her voice merely came out meek and nervous, though the underlying connotation was loud and clear to them both: _I know what you've done._

He blinked, eyelids sliding over blood-red orbs before lifting unhurriedly, almost as if his thick lashes were hindering the movement. "For formality's sake, then," he ventured.

A flash of anger. "Why am I here?"

Was he mocking her? Blood pounded in her ears as the gravity of the danger she was faced with dawned on her with increasing intensity. With utmost caution, she shifted to the balls of her feet to better orient herself. He continued to observe her, features entirely blank and indifferent, and still refused to provide her with an answer.

Her heightened senses took this moment to inspect her surroundings; all the while, her gaze remained locked on the spot over his head. She felt the almost imperceptible trickle of air from her left; the exit had to be that way. She could hardly challenge Uchiha Itachi - that would be very, _very_ stupid - but she could run, which would perhaps be slightly less stupid. Almost on cue, her gaze flickered to the exit and back.

And without so much as a shift in the air, he was standing in front of her.

A shaken, terrified scream died in her throat. She stumbled back before clumsily springing to her feet.

She'd never seen such speed.

Emerald eyes met vicious crimson, unbidden, and the onset of hyperventilation coursed through her; he was too close - too incredibly close. His body heat was scorching her senses, making her insides spasm and cower in fear. His blood-drenched eyes were even brighter at such close proximity, and their intensity was such an onslaught to her sight that her mind went momentarily blank.

In a small, hidden corner of her brain, she wondered idly: had Sasuke's eyes been like this too? Had she simply forgotten the intensity of the Sharingan on an Uchiha? Kakashi's single eye was nothing like this pair. In her laden mind, Sakura visualized the man's eyes being drenched in the blood of his victims, painted in viscous crimson after each murder. Tainted beyond saving.

"You will remain here," he murmured, tone still light, smooth, masculine - but now entirely blank, without the prior pleasant lilt. Despite this, however, Sakura was startled by its lulling quality that became more apparent with every word he spoke. It was strangely soothing, and in that moment, Sakura thought him the very definition of nature's predator; with his hypnotic eyes and almost alluring features, he created the perfect deception for unsuspecting prey to fall into his trap.

Unfortunately for him, Sakura was familiar with his ways. It was because of this man that she'd been obligated to watch her teammate slowly but surely drive himself to madness. She wouldn't dare let herself be deceived.

Her eyes locked on the shoulder at her direct line of sight, and she couldn't avoid the crack to her already fragile courage with him towering above her much smaller figure. She mustered up a bout of quiet resolve - as much of it as she could at that moment - and said, "You're healed. I'm no longer needed."

"My eyes deteriorate with use," he said. It was as though he was making polite small-talk. "You will remain with me and heal them as I wish."

She caught her jaw before it could drop in horror. Cold, cold dread creeped under her skin. She was only mildly aware of the fact that he'd so casually announced his ultimate weakness. A hard swallow made its way down her throat as she carefully took him in; he stood tall, carrying all the agility of a ninja of the highest caliber - so indifferent, as though he hadn't just announced her fate as definitively as one did the sun on a cloudless summer day.

"And if I refuse?" she managed in a small voice, keeping her chin raised high despite the crippling sense of foreboding that fought to force her to her knees.

His eyes shone brighter if at all possible - she saw it in her periphery - and he tipped his head very slightly to the left. If he were anyone but Uchiha Itachi, she would have taken the gesture to be one of curiosity. But he was Uchiha Itachi indeed, so she could only accept his response as an unspoken declaration of her demise in the event that she did, in fact, refuse.

"If you refuse, I will have tracked down the Kyuubi by sunrise, and I will allow you to accompany me to witness his capture."

She almost recoiled in shock, but remained rooted to the spot solely due to survival instinct. For the first time, there was an edge to his tone. She could only attest it to his displeasure at being questioned.

And suddenly, Sakura felt very, very small. Weak. Helpless. At the mercy of the man she hated the most in the world. She could do nothing but bite her tongue. She could do nothing but will away the tears that sprang to her eyes. She could do nothing but _take it_ as he threatened Naruto's life. And he - he remained entirely unperturbed, face clear of any traces of emotion: the same features she'd come to memorize during her lone hours of terror. The same forehead, the same long lashes, the strong jaw, the same mouth—

And then she saw it: the tiniest pressure between his upper and lower lips, not even enough to pale the pink color, but there nonetheless. A change in his stony features that, had Sakura not spent days memorizing, she would have no doubt missed.

And if she'd drawn a reaction out of the stoic man, he was likely very, very serious about his threat.

Mentally, vigorously, Sakura shook her head. What could she do? She had to think of something. She had to try! Naruto's life was on the line.

And then her brilliant mind offered her an idea to maybe work this to her advantage. Nothing certain - more a gamble - but worth a try.

She narrowed her eyes at his shoulder. "How do I know you won't capture him after I heal you?" she demanded.

He'd said nothing of not capturing the Kyuubi, only that he would apprehend him the moment she refused, but she was willing to test her luck. A gamble, yes, but she had to try - even at the risk of his wrath.

She half-predicted a response of 'You don't' to follow, but it didn't. Instead, she was astonished to see a pucker appear between his brows. He paused and intently considered her for a moment; he was thinking, she realized, and Sakura remained entirely paralyzed, half-dreading half-anticipating his answer.

Finally, his features turned lax once more. "I will not attempt to capture the Kyuubi for as long as our agreement stands," he said. The cold edge to his tone was absent.

Her own brows furrowed in thought. This man was a genius; no doubt he'd seen through her little ploy, and yet he'd allowed it - had gone along with it in fact, for whatever reason. Sakura couldn't believe her luck. She squared her shoulders in an attempt to boost her confidence.

"How do I trust you?"

For a brief, brief moment, she thought she saw a slight twitch in the corners of his eyes - a minuscule crease - but it disappeared quickly. She blinked and gave herself a mental shake, positive she'd hallucinated the small smile.

"It seems you don't have a choice," he said.

Her mouth set in a grim line, she studied him with tentative eyes, searching for any traces of deceit; it was a fruitless attempt, and she was quickly forced to admit that indeed she had no choice but to trust him.

She lowered her gaze and took a slow backward step in wordless acceptance.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Haruno-san. I look forward to working with you."

She froze midway through her cautious descent to the ground. Without further ado, he made his way back to his own spot at a normal, humanly speed. The pleasant tones of his greeting rang in her ears for a moment longer, and in an effort to shield herself from his strange bearing, she seated herself as far from him as the confined space allowed. She had nothing to say in response, but hearing him speak her formal name in that politely pleasant lilt - confirming that he did in fact know who she was - drew a petrifying chill down her spine.

She wrapped her arms around her trembling form, wanting nothing more than to shrink. To disappear. He settled himself against the opposite wall, and from the corner of her eye, she saw the crimson glow of his eyes disappear; this spurred her on to risk a glance - the way a terrified child might take a peek under their bed to check for a monster.

And take a peek she did - and blinked at the unexpected sight: he'd closed his eyes. In the absence of the Sharingan, she found that she could better assess him. He'd cleaned up since the last time she'd seen him; soot and dried blood no longer clung to his skin, though he was still wearing the same tattered clothes. But none of this was what captured her attention.

He looked so startlingly different, seated in that wholly relaxed posture - one leg extended, the other bent, and an arm draped over his drawn knee. He'd leaned his head back against the wall, and loose, long, _long_ raven locks cascaded down his shoulders and arms, save for the cropped bangs that framed his face and softened the strong line of his jaw. The entire image was a picture-perfect frame of relaxation, somehow so far from what she'd associate with him. Perhaps it was the absence of his cloak - the cloak that always identified him clearly for what he was - but right at that moment, she was terrified to realize, he looked so normal. She decided that made him even more dangerous.

And dangerous he was, she thought, tearing her gaze away and thinking back to their conversation. His request - _command_ \- made little sense to her, given the Akatsuki's plans to capture all Bijuu. But the group hardly functioned like a village, she imagined; it would be foolish to assume he would blindly follow orders when clearly the man did everything for his own benefit. It didn't really come as a surprise that he placed his own interests above the Akatsuki's. Uchiha Itachi served no loyalty.

In any case, Sakura had no choice but to accept. She couldn't ensure Naruto's safety from the other Akatsuki, but it would seem that her friend was protected from the older Uchiha, at least for now. Until… Well, until this arrangement ended.

Her heart sank slowly, gradually, until she felt it in the pit of her stomach. Naruto would be in grave danger if ever she managed to escape - perhaps even more so than before. She wanted more than anything to trust in her teammate's abilities - she knew better than most what he was capable of – but as far as she was concerned, the shinobi sitting across from her was simply invincible, and she'd be damned if she used her teammate to test the Uchiha's powers.

A vigorous spasm shot through her body, suspending her musings. The adrenaline that'd been so readily pulsing through her veins in the face of immediate danger was now being rapidly flushed out, leaving her in an even worse state than before. Her chakra levels were still dangerously low; she was exhausted, starved, weak, and the only thing that was arguably in her favor was the fact that he would allow her to replenish her chakra stores if she was to heal him. Hopefully she could stop feeling so helpless when her full strength returned.

The raucous wind was getting worse, but Sakura found the howls oddly soothing. Her exhausted mind escaped the confines of the cave for a brief moment, carrying her thoughts to happy memories: seeking shelter with Team 7 during a storm in Lightening Country, sipping her steaming mug of hot chocolate while a thunderstorm raged outside her home, watching the forest sway through the hospital window... Konoha's storms were especially beautiful in her eyes... And then her eyes fluttered shut, and she'd almost succumbed to sleep when—

"You may eat."

His voice tore through the howling winds, wildly shaking her awake. Her gaze snapped in his direction, but he hadn't moved an inch. Even his eyes remained closed. She wondered if perhaps she'd dreamt his voice.

"You may eat the food," he repeated, eyes still closed. She blinked, perplexed and more than a little lost.

At long last, he lowered his head and opened his eyes. Sakura gasped; she couldn't help it.

His eyes. The luminous, violent crimson was gone. Had melted away, as though it'd never been. In its place was deep, dark, molten onyx, and the complete contrast baffled Sakura's mind.

But despite the startling difference, her shock was over something else entirely.

His shade of onyx was identical to that of his brother's.

He remained indifferent to her reaction and trailed those dark, dark eyes lower, to a point beside the blazing fire, before dragging them back up to her widened emeralds. Absently she followed his gaze, and sure enough, shielded from the fumes and nested over a bed of branches, she found some cooked meat.

All thought was wiped clean from her mind as her senses zoned in on the delicious smell of real food; it had been too, too long. She did try to hide her urgency - she really did - but truthfully she was just too damn eager. And ravenous. She grabbed the branch lined with the deliciously juicy strips and wasted no time to dig in. The first bite that made it down to her stomach was almost painful, but immediately she felt her body responding eagerly. It was only after a few mouthfuls that her trained senses nudged her to attention and she became startlingly aware of the watchful gaze fixed on her. She slowed her chewing just long enough to berate herself for being so foolish; she hadn't even tested the food for poison, even if he'd claimed to need her alive.

She swallowed the bite in her mouth before finally lifting her gaze to meet his - and this time, her jaw did drop.

The amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. And was that - wait - was that a smile on his lips?

Food long forgotten, Sakura stared at the man in open bafflement. It had been short lived, yes, but there was no doubt about it; it'd been a smile - not even a smirk like Sasuke's. Her weakened body struggled to conjure an appropriate response, and she started shivering, shock draining the last of her energy. Sakura refused to meet his eyes for fear of what she would see, and her meal was unceremoniously placed back on the nest of branches. She drew her knees to her chest to cradle herself for warmth, for safety, and shifted until her side rested against the wall, propping her forehead on the cool, rough surface and wishing more than anything to fall sleep. At least then, she wouldn't have to think, to feel, to see.

Exhausted, she drifted into a restless sleep, willing herself to forget his terrifyingly perfect smile and how much more afraid she was of the Uchiha.


	3. Eastern jungle

**A/N: Hi everyone! Again, thank you very much for your support! I have to admit this chapter was a lot of fun to write (and difficult) – first interactions are always so crucial! I've left tiny hints as to the direction the story will be going (though not many just yet) I have pretty much finalized the storyline this past week, and I'm so excited! Let me know if you have any thoughts/comments/concerns!**

 **Have a good read!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

 ** _~ More Than Meets The Eye ~_**

The piercing wails of the storm resonated through the small cavern. He glanced at the sleeping girl; she hadn't so much as stirred over the raucous noise. He supposed chakra exhaustion would see to it that she was out for another couple of hours.

Torturous thoughts continued to swarm his mind, and his heavy onyx eyes fluttered shut as he sought solace in the cries of nature. His moment of reprieve was not granted, however.

 _Sasuke…_

He was worried about his brother. It was all too clear now - at least, he could see it clearly for what it was. For what it had been. He saw the telltale signs, the quiet warnings of his mind that had cautioned him about Madara, about Sasuke. He vaguely remembered thinking that perhaps his brother had ventured too deep into darkness, far too past the point of no return, and he remembered dismissing the thought, believing it would be nothing his plan couldn't fix. And lastly, it occurred to him that Madara had deliberately spent minimal time in his presence over the last few years - suspiciously so - and he now concurred that he'd done so to limit Itachi's ability to unravel his plans.

He saw it all for what it was, because truthfully, he hadn't been able to before. Not soundly, at least.

Over the past few years, Itachi had been little more than a shell. Half-there, half-not. A body pumped with such severe doses of medication that he'd practically been bursting at the seams with drugs. Just enough to keep him functioning, just enough to keep the agony at bay, and of course to make sure no one found out. He had functioned well enough where day-to-day interactions were concerned, but anything more and his perception - not to mention judgement - turned cloudy.

He'd been more than aware of this, but through the hazy memories, the pain, and the palpable anticipation of finally dying at Sasuke's hands, little else had mattered. And thus, he'd made flawed plans, he'd overlooked details, and he'd underestimated intentions; mistakes he would have never allowed had he been of sound mind.

Now when he looked back and reweighed the facts, it became pitifully obvious that Madara had simply been biding his time until Itachi died to sink his claws into his brother. Sasuke was bitter, he was vengeful and he was naive - a perfect tool to use against Konoha. It made Itachi sick that the man would use the truth about the massacre to his own advantage - for his own personal retribution against the Leaf. Not to mention, he would poison Sasuke's mind in the process and turn him against their beloved village - which was exactly what Itachi had been attempting to avoid from the very beginning.

And on top of it all, now that Itachi lived, his eyes wouldn't be finding their way to Sasuke for a while longer. Which meant, of course, that the tool he'd left in Uzumaki Naruto's care as a precaution for this very problem would be for nil.

He wished more than anything to trust in his brother. To trust him to respect his older brother's sacrifice and make the right decision, or to choose to value the bonds he'd forged back in Konoha, but Itachi was far too realistic. Sasuke was still naive; he lacked the vision Itachi himself had embraced from a young age. His otouto was quick to be deceived when it came to matters of personal vendetta. After all, Sasuke had declared himself an avenger, and an avenger he would remain.

Revenge was an addiction, and it was likely that his brother was hooked. To continue on the path he'd set out for himself would be the simplest choice - easier than having to welcome change and admit to seeking an unjust revenge, logic be damned. Solitude and hatred would remain as his two most trusted companions - they would undoubtedly be familiar to him.

He dropped his forehead on his propped arm. Ebony hair followed and curtained his face from view. In hindsight, it seemed that his single wish to die at his brother's hands had been at the cost of Sasuke's sanity; tempting him to welcome hatred, demanding he seek power by any means necessary - it had all slowly but surely driven him mad. At the time, it had seemed justified to Itachi - even necessary; he had to ensure that his brother grew strong enough to be able to defend himself, to not fall into a false sense of security. He was an Uchiha, and the fact remained that there was prejudice against their name. Sasuke had to be able to fend for himself.

And yet somewhere along the way, he'd made matters worse - and there it was, the latest addition to his list of ironies: driving his brother down a depthless ditch of hatred in his efforts to protect him.

It was all too much. His sins had accumulated to unworldly masses that were now crushing his soul almost relentlessly. Itachi gave himself a quick shake before opting for a distraction. He let his gaze roam the small cavern, taking in the clarity of his surroundings. The tiny crack on a pebble across the fire, the golden grains of sand littering the corners, the soft line of a scar on the side of her wrist...

He looked more closely at the pink line, wondering the story behind it. The rest of her arm appeared free of blemishes and the lone scar stood out over such smooth skin. It looked almost unfitting.

Well, the cruel reality of the life of a shinobi: the promise of scars, both visible and hidden.

Such a ruthless life had to be unsuitable for some, he thought, eyeing the sleeping girl. He didn't often pass judgement on those he knew little about, but Itachi couldn't help but wonder what reason she could have possibly had in choosing the life of a shinobi. Their single exchange earlier had made it quite apparent that she harboured a great deal of emotions - and not only that, but she seemed to readily display them as well. From the moment her eyes had met his, her exact emotional state had been made as clear as day to him: a blend of shock, terror, confusion. And fear. Lots of fear. Her vividly transparent eyes had given away too much too quickly.

It had been an intriguing sight, to say the least. Never mind the fact that he'd been deprived of such levels of clarity for years, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen features of such expressive nature. Needless to say, he had found himself capturing the sight with his Sharingan; the widened eyes, the dilated pupils, the gaping mouth and the wholly tense posture.

She seemed intelligent - an appropriate trait for a capable shinobi. It'd been made evident in the way she'd more or less bargained for her teammate's life. Her green eyes had darkened in thought and he'd almost seen the wheels turning in her head. The fact that she'd been capable of strategizing in her weakened state had been impressive. Either way, he'd played along; it wasn't as though he had any intention of letting the Kyuubi fall into the hands of the Akatsuki - not if he could help it anyway.

Threatening her with her teammate's life had repulsed him, but it couldn't be helped. Itachi had to make sure she didn't attempt any escapes, and he felt less than comfortable with the thought of having to use force for the cause. At least this way, they'd reached a mutual understanding. There was no need to put on the ruthless act unless it was absolutely necessary. She already seemed terrified enough of him.

Itachi knew little about her outside the widespread knowledge that circulated across the nations: the Godaime's apprentice, skills in medical ninjutsu second only to those of her shishou's, the kunoichi at whose hands Sasori of the Red Sand had met his end... She had quite the reputation for herself, but Itachi knew better than to claim to know her based on a few facts. After all, there was more to a shinobi than met the eye - a reality that'd always been a little too up-close-and-personal for comfort.

A smile tugged at his lips. Indeed, she was quite amusing. He hadn't seen anyone devour food so blissfully since Sasuke had been three.

The little else he knew about her stemmed purely from the fact that she had been on his brother's team. She was not affiliated with a prominent clan, had possessed little noticeable talent as a Genin, and had grown to become utterly devoted to her team. It was this devotion that had urged Itachi to use her in his plans for Sasuke - not that it mattered any longer.

Long fingers brushed away his raven bangs before trailing to his temples, applying pressure to diffuse the oncoming headache. It was very minor; he was no stranger to excruciating migraines that went hand in hand with prolonged Sharingan use. His body felt stronger than it had in years, but it still needed sufficient rest to recover.

Absently his fingertips grazed his forehead, feeling warm skin instead of the usual cool metal. It seemed that he had lost it at some point. Perhaps Madara had removed it from his person along with the rest of his possessions.

He closed his eyes and reiterated his plans for the forthcoming weeks. Itachi hoped it wouldn't take too long to reach their destination. Now that Madara had made it known just how far he was willing to go to find out about it, Itachi had to take all measures to prevent it from happening. And the sooner he collected his hidden possession, the sooner he could speak with Sasuke.

* * *

He stared at the mass of rubble that coated the forest terrain with the picture of an emotionless façade carved under his mask. Events had taken a turn for the unexpected, and more than anger or displeasure, he was filled with curiosity; how had the kunoichi pulled it off?

The Genjutsu he'd cast on her had specifically commanded that she heal Itachi only until he reached a stable condition, no more, no less; but that had obviously not been the case, he gathered, as he looked on at the remains of the underground prison. It had undoubtedly been wrecked by Itachi's Susanoo, as not much else could penetrate the chakra shield - which meant, of course, that he was awake and beyond past the level of 'stable'.

With the recent capture of the Six-Tails jinchuuriki, the beast's extraction had been necessary and had greatly delayed his return to check on his prisoners. His group members knew nothing of his special interest in Itachi, which complicated things somewhat. Either way, he supposed he had only himself to blame for underestimating the girl. He disliked complications when it came to his plans - especially where Itachi was concerned, given that he'd been after this for close to a decade now.

He smothered the burning rage in his chest. Some re-evaluating was due if he hoped to fix the situation - and in the meantime, he had to do what he could to keep tabs on Itachi. It was highly unlikely that the Uchiha would remain in the Akatsuki now that the masked man had made such a blatant move against him. Itachi would probably take steps to unravel his plans from a distance.

In any case, he had to tread carefully. After all, Uchiha Itachi held the missing piece that the late Madara had requested he uncover.

* * *

It was the earthy scent of wet forest that roused her from deep slumber. Sakura stirred cautiously, sensing the chakra roaming every corner of her body, so warm and pleasant in its presence as her system worked to welcome the long-lost familiarity. Her muscles throbbed in protest of the position she'd held herself all night, but she felt somewhat strong and rested for the first time in a long time.

With awareness, however, came painful, dawning acceptance.

Her life for the foreseeable future would consist of nothing but protecting her teammate in the only way she could. In the best way her circumstances allowed.

Sakura braced herself; she closed her eyes, willed away the tears, and took a deep breath.

Then she inspected her surroundings with a small frown, finding no signs of the man responsible for her plight. The fire burned as vividly as before, and this time she was quick to spot the fresh meal placed beside the flames. Strips of meat, balanced over a neat chamber of twigs and cradled in a bed of bamboo leaves, accompanied by an assortment of berries; the entire display on the make-shift tray could only be described as _elegant_.

Sakura blinked, trying to come to terms with what she was seeing. A dozen questions arose - why, how, when, _why -_ as she sought to justify the needless gesture. An unbidden image flashed across her mind, that of amused eyes and a small smile - the terrifying display from the night before. A chill ran up her spine and she shook off the thought, rubbing her arms to settle the goosebumps. As much as she wanted to refuse the food, she needed her strength in case the man betrayed their arrangement.

She ate quickly, more than aware that her few bites from the night before had been less than sufficient. She sighed in contentment once she'd finished the entire tray and proceeded to stretch her sore muscles, relishing the sounds of accompanying cracks.

The small cavern was eerily silent in the aftermath of the storm. As she finally made her way to the exit, Sakura attempted to gather her resolve, to calm her nerves, and to settle her mind. It was a largely futile effort.

She was greeted by a mossy fragrance that grew more potent with each step. The wonderfully familiar scent caressed her senses as her eyes adjusted to the soft colours of dawn splayed across a clear azure. The forest held a hushed, almost eccentric kind of serenity in its post-storm ambiance that never failed to take her breath away; now was no different, with sparse trees bathed in pinks and purples that didn't quite reach the underbrush and a morning light that didn't quite illuminate. Shadows were left to linger, and immediately her eyes were drawn to one in particular - an ominous silhouette in the distance. He faced the sunrise, away from her, with a single arm held out to his side where three crows perched. Four others hovered above him, and the sounds of flapping wings resonated across the silent forest, accompanied by the occasional caw.

It made for an eerie image that drew a chill down her spine. The rays brushed his form only just; from her vantage point, he was no more than the outline of a shadow, his pitch black silhouette indistinguishable from that of the crows. Sakura found it strangely fitting against the hushed backdrop. This did little to quell the fear clawing at her insides of course, and as evidence to that fact, her heart pounded painfully against her ribcage. It was a terrifying sight.

He did nothing to acknowledge her presence. Instead, his arm swept skyward and the crows took their queue to scatter, figures ominous against the soft sunrise as they took flight. Only then did he turn, with stray feathers floating and fluttering around him, and began a casual stroll in her direction.

The crimson of his eyes was visible even from this length, flashing strikingly over features that grew clearer with his approach - and it was in that moment, under the dim lighting of dawn, that Sakura found her mind assaulted with reminders, with images, with hours and days worth of hazy memories:

A still body. A flickering flame. Soft, peaceful features bathed in a soft glow - not unlike this very moment. Comforting, consoling, familiar.

It was the same face that'd provided her with some much-needed companionship during the torturous hours of her captivity. During both the dreams and the nightmares. Now that she was no longer chakra deprived and panic-stricken, her mind could inspect the familiar features - and the new additions - more attentively.

It was odd, to say the least. Sakura pictured a puzzle - a puzzle she'd put together many times over, had memorized to the smallest detail - but with a missing piece. A vital piece without which the puzzle held no meaning, as though the most crucial part had been saved for last. A bitter smile played across her lips as she swept her gaze over Uchiha Itachi's eyes; the piece that defined this man had been placed, effectively completing the puzzle, and had destroyed all chances of a beautiful meaning to the mystery, promising endless horrors instead.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked as he approached.

The light, polite tone of his voice was even more startling in her rested state. Emerald eyes strayed to his chest as Sakura tried harder to smother her growing panic with every step that brought him closer. She clenched her trembling hands into fists and finally found her voice. "Where are we going?"

Was she to follow him around while he took care of Akatsuki business? The thought was nauseating.

He glanced in her direction as he walked past, evidenced only by a minute tip of his head. "We will collect supplies," he said before disappearing into the cave.

Her eyes followed him, not daring to turn her back. Alright, supplies didn't sound too bad. She didn't have a single kunai on her person.

When he resurfaced moments later, Sakura glanced at him skeptically from the corner of her eye. She didn't detect any killing intent, which was odd but spurred her on to probe further. "And then?" she asked.

He paused mid-step and turned to face her fully. Sakura inadvertently tensed, her gaze drilling into his chest as she prepared to read his movements. The only thing she could see in her peripheral, however, was the faint crease to his brows as he seemingly studied her from top to bottom for a moment.

"We may locate a stream for you to clean yourself. Or you may choose to wait until we've arrived, if you don't mind," he said in the type of polite mannerism one would have to practice their whole life to perfect.

Sakura blanked briefly - and then tensed all over again. Her senses expanded to survey her surroundings, lightening fast, before she let herself relax fractionally. There seemed to be no traces of a Genjutsu, but...

Slowly her eyes trailed back to him. He was waiting for her answer, posture calm and patient. Sakura caught her jaw from falling in surprise.

Was he simply...being considerate?

She recollected herself long enough to glance down, seeing for herself the blood and dirt that covered her from head to toe. When had she been showered in dust?

Swallowing the thick lump in her throat, she swept her eyes quickly over his in cautious appraisal. He stood tall as a shinobi would, returning her gaze unflinchingly with that same blank expression. Sakura gave herself a mental shake and drew back her shoulders. "I'd prefer not having to wait," she replied sternly, but with polite formality. It wasn't in her nature to lash out at those who showed consideration.

He gave a little nod - the smallest dip of his head - before turning to head toward the denser part of the forest. She took a few hesitant steps in pursuit before pausing.

"And then?"

He stopped to look back over his shoulder, and his now-onyx eye lit up in something - amusement? - before the ghost of a half-smirk-half-smile flitted across his features. Sakura noted in her daze that even his smirks resembled smiles - a sharp contrast to Sasuke, whose smiles resembled smirks.

And then he turned away again, leaving the question unanswered and the girl disoriented in the wake of his behaviour. Pursing her lips, Sakura trailed after him with no choice but to accept his silence. He took to the thick canopy the moment she was close enough to follow.

A weak sigh left her lips as she lingered at the edge of the forest, blinking away the tears that sprang to her eyes. Yearning for a mental strength she didn't possess, she leapt after Uchiha Itachi under the watchful gaze of the morning sun.

* * *

Naruto closed his hand around a fistful of broken earth; the grains gave way inside his palm, crumbling to dust and trickling through his fingers like sand.

 _Sakura-chan…_

"There's no question about it. Hasn't even been twenty-four hours," Pakkun said, regarding the group with beady eyes as Akamaru barked beside him in agreement.

"And she is alive?" asked Sai, voicing the question no one else seemed able to.

The pug nodded. "We can smell her chakra. It wouldn't be so strong if she wasn't."

Kakashi crouched by the mound of rubble and pinched a sample of soil, rubbing it between thumb and index finger. "So they've relocated," he mused. "But that doesn't explain...this." His gaze swept over the ruined terrain.

"There are traces of powerful chakra in the rubble," Pakkun rumbled on. "Almost like... like chakra itself caused an explosion." The pug glanced at the ninken sniffing through the ruins. "There's evidence that there was a room underground. It's likely the explosion originated from within."

Kakashi's brows furrowed. "Chakra explosion..."

They knew little about the Akatsuki member who'd abducted Sakura. It was possible he had such a technique in his arsenal, but Kakashi was skeptical; it made little sense for Tobi to destroy the hidden base where he'd been keeping his prisoner. He may have wished to relocate for whatever reason, but blasting the place had only alerted them of its location. It didn't sound like a logical course of action for someone holding a captive.

As far as Kakashi was aware, the only Akatsuki techniques that could have caused such an eruption were Deidara's clay bombs and Itachi's Amaterasu and Susanoo - members Pakkun would be familiar with. And according to the Akatsuki's own sources, Itachi had been defeated by Sasuke.

"Kakashi…" Pakkun addressed him, but his solemn gaze was for the entire group. They all turned to the ninken.

"Sakura is with Uchiha Itachi."

* * *

They travelled in complete silence until past noon. The forest was a green blur at their swift pace; it came as no surprise that he was fast, but Sakura hadn't missed his slower stride that morning intended to test her travelling speed. The last thing she needed was to appear weaker than she already felt, so she'd responded by picking up her pace without straining her body in its state of recovery, and he'd swiftly matched her step. No doubt he could run faster if he so desired, but oddly enough he was choosing to accommodate her instead of demanding she go faster.

They'd stopped by a stream a few hours prior and he had promptly vanished to give her some privacy. The cool water had felt wonderful as she'd attempted to wash off the worst of the grime that clung to her skin, but after battling with the nest of crusty old blood that sat atop her head, she'd given up, resigning the chore to the capable hands of shampoo until later. It would need to be disinfected before she could heal her head wound anyway.

He had miraculously reappeared the moment she'd stepped away from the water, and they'd continued on their way.

That had been a while ago, and just as Sakura wondered how much longer they'd be travelling, he descended from the canopy to continue on foot over an overlaid trail. Within minutes, they'd stepped onto a quiet road that lead to a handful of brick lodges. The few people that strode the street kept their heads low and their gazes lower.

Great. Sketchy spot for a sketchy man.

She followed him to the side entrance of a three-story building and past a rusty screen. They walked down a short hallway before entering a room through a wooden door - and it was as though the doorway triggered a shift in the ambiance, because the suffocating killing intent that emanated from her companion the moment he stepped into the room was immediate. Immediate and absolutely debilitating. The chill was enough to freeze every last air particle in her lungs. Sakura almost stumbled in her daze.

It seemed that he'd had a similar effect on the three other occupants of the room, as the men scrambled and seemed at a general loss for what to do with themselves.

"U-Uchiha-s-sama," the shortest man spluttered, bowing his head to the ground. The other two, decked out in full ninja gear, cowered back to the far wall, and Sakura had enough sense to note that they'd likely been guarding the other man - the man who hadn't yet risen from his folded position and was quite distinctly a civilian with a look about him that screamed dirty business.

"I will take it all."

His voice was something out of a nightmare. Not the customarily sinister, tormenting hiss that was commonly associated with such horrors, but one that sparked true fear in the form of the unknown - because Uchiha Itachi's voice was barely above a whisper, entirely blank to the point of being inhuman, and equally unforgiving. It was so very different from before - so much so that for a moment Sakura wondered if she'd been dreaming all morning - and was everything she would have ever imagined it to be.

"O-of course, Uchiha-sama! I'll f-fetch your m-money right away, sir!" The poor man almost tripped over his own feet as he bolted behind a door to the right.

It took her a moment to recognize the building pain in her chest and finally she released the breath she'd held on instinct before risking a cursory glance at the man beside her. All matters aside, he shouldn't have been so petrifying in such modest ninja garb. He wasn't even wearing his signature cloak, but it seemed that this S-rank criminal needed no accessories to spark terror in his victims.

Only his Sharingan, she corrected, registering the crimson glow that shone brighter than she'd ever seen in her peripheral. He looked the epitome of cruelty, and Sakura found herself shifting away unconsciously as she eyed his figure, at which point his eyes gave a swift blink.

And she'd been terrified of him before? Yeah right, she thought as she attempted to control her trembling.

His contact reemerged fumbling a duffle bag and sweating profusely. He drew to an abrupt halt, and his internal conflict as to whether he should approach the Uchiha or give ear to his survival instincts was pitifully obvious. Sparing one last glance at his useless guards, he turned hesitantly toward the menace in the room before bowing as low as his girth would allow and taking a small step forward.

Thankfully her companion seemed to be in a merciful mood and swiftly covered the short distance to retrieve the bag without much fuss. With that, he took position by the door they'd crossed only minutes before and turned to Sakura. She stood staring at his shoulder for some long moments before it dawned on her that he was waiting for her to leave the room first.

She was praying that her bodily tremors weren't visible as she walked past him into the hallway, but with the soft click of the door just like before, the palpable tension in the air suddenly lifted - inexplicably vanished as though it'd never been, leaving only a dry mouth and a pounding heart in its wake. The few steps that brought them outdoors were accompanied by an uncomfortable silence. Sakura was still trying to gather her lost grip on reality when he spoke, gaze locked on the greenery ahead.

"I apologize if I made you uncomfortable," he said quietly.

Sakura spared him a sidelong glance and noted the faint crease to his brows and the slight tension to his jaw. Her own brows would have risen in response had feeling returned to her facial muscles, but alas, her heart could only stumble in its rhythm while another cold, fearful chill descended her spine in reaction to his words. Why did he look uncomfortable? Better yet, why was he apologizing? Her shell shocked features cracked to give way to narrowed eyes as she tried to sort through her jumbled thoughts. She wasn't deemed intelligent for nothing, but her mind could come up with no plausible explanation for her perceptions. Perhaps his odd behaviour was a consequence of mental instability - though hers or his, she wasn't sure at this point.

He didn't acknowledge her scrutinizing stare as they made their way back to the forest trail. Finally her eyes trailed to the apparent purpose of their short visit and she couldn't help the small noise of incredulity that rose in the back of her throat. He glanced down at her with onyx eyes and an imperceptibly raised eyebrow.

She looked away quickly. "Money?" she muttered.

He was silent for a few moments before replying slowly, almost tentatively, in that pleasant lilt. "We need it to purchase our supplies."

Her wary, inquisitive gaze drifted back to him at his self-evident explanation. His brow rose just a little higher in response, and whatever he saw on her face made him turn back to the road before addressing her unspoken query with a "I don't steal, Haruno-san," in an exceedingly courteous tone.

Sakura blinked at his admission, before torrents of shock and fury flooded her all at once; shock because there were no traces of defensiveness or hostility in his voice - only a dab of careful tact to right misinformation, as though she'd accidentally gotten his name wrong and he wanted to correct it without seeming rude. And fury - well, that was entirely due to the nature of his declaration. 'No, you just murder in cold-blood,' she thought, clenching her jaw and sharply turning away.

The next hour saw their arrival at a small village. A quick inspection made it apparent that it was inhabited primarily by civilians, but the abundance of merchants suggested a specialty in provisioning for passersby, including ninja. Sakura observed the radiant streets decked with signs of all shapes and sizes that urged buyers to take a peek at their collections, browse through endless supplies of clothing and attire accessories, and taste cuisines from across the five great nations and beyond. She was undoubtedly overwhelmed by the chaos after her less than social interactions of recent.

They waded the crowded streets toward a more modest side of town. She followed him inside a vacant store and was greeted by rows and rows of ninja gear of all kinds.

She could sense him watching her from the corner of his eye as she took in the overwhelming array of options. "Is this sufficient for your needs?" he asked somewhat tentatively.

Sakura glanced at his - still shockingly - onyx eyes and emotionless gaze. "I think so," she muttered before taking to browsing the racks once she'd received a curt nod.

It wasn't difficult to see why the store lacked in customers; every piece of clothing screamed top-quality, likely outside the price range of the average traveler. Apparently not the Uchiha's, however. She wondered how he'd come by so much money if he didn't steal - and then decided that morally skewed people came by the dozens and would have no qualms about hiring Uchiha Itachi for his services if they could afford S-class compensation.

Under normal circumstances - normal loosely suggesting that she wasn't under the watchful gaze of a dangerous missing-nin who could wring her neck faster than Ino could snatch the cute pair of boots on the bottom shelf - she enjoyed shopping, especially when accompanied by said speedy snatcher. Though of course these were hardly normal circumstances, and she wasn't with her friend but with a man who had haunted her nightmares more than any S-rank criminal had any business doing. So it was entirely understandable that she found herself less than willing to drag this on for any longer than strictly necessary. Mind decided, she swiftly picked out a pair of deep red shorts that reached slightly lower than her current pair and a black kimono style top that looked strikingly similar to the red one on her person. She collected undergarments and a pair of black gloves from their appropriate shelves before returning to the front of the store. Her boots were thankfully undamaged.

He was waiting for her with his own small pile of items. When he saw her cautious approach, he turned to the elderly lady with fine wrinkles about her eyes and mouth that paid homage to the smile that held permanent residence over her features.

He smiled at her. "Arigatou gozaimasu." An elegant, courteous bow followed, before he placed a number of bills on the counter that were unquestionably too much. Sakura had been lingering near the door where she could both keep him in her sights and feel safe with their relative distance, but when the woman's wrinkles grew more pronounced in her direction, she couldn't do but return the smile and execute a somewhat clumsy bow of her own.

As they exited the store, she had to make a conscious effort to avoid tripping over her own frozen, dysfunctional limbs. And despite her efforts to shove it down, the image kept resurfacing as though her mind needed reminders that it hadn't been a fragment of her imagination.

He had smiled. And this time, it hadn't been fleeting; it had been effortless and undeniably _beautiful._

She flinched as he fell in step beside her, and her gaze dropped to her feet in an effort to ignore his presence. Was he really that talented of an actor? A wave of sorrow washed over her. That smile...

It was _the_ smile. The smile she'd hoped to one day see on Sasuke. The one she'd always pictured on his lips. So easy, natural and seemingly genuine. She'd had to rely on imagination, because she couldn't be certain - she was doubtful Sasuke had ever smiled so naturally. Not around her, at least.

She was distracted enough to almost walk past the door he'd held open. A trail of goosebumps rose along her skin as she turned her back on him to step inside. Only then did she note the slightly shabby state of the interior under the dim fluorescent lighting. It was a weaponry establishment that didn't seem like much at first glance, but when she spotted the spiralling rail of a staircase that lead underground - a common feature of weaponry premises that dealt in the black market - she imagined it was more than adequate.

They spent longer here, and she wiped all thoughts of her ex-teammate and perfect smiles from her mind as she watched him pick his equipment with graceful, effortless expertise. His expression remained impassive save the faint crease of his brows drawn in concentration. He collected scrolls, tags, innumerable shuriken (she blinked in shock before recalling his specialty in shurikenjutsu) and a whole range of other supplies she had a hard time keeping track of.

Sakura had to admit, as far as skill proficiency went, she had to give respects to those who earned it for their competency in their field. This was especially true in the ranks of shinobi, since she happened to be among them. And right now, observing the efficiency with which this shinobi - one of the most powerful in existence - picked his tools, she couldn't do but be in awe of him.

After a painful half hour of watching him put her to shame and quickly gathering her own supplies, she followed him back to the buzzing streets. Their next stop, strangely enough, was a dusty bookstore that radiated mystique.

He glanced at her over his shoulder as they entered. "I won't be long."

She remained by the entrance while he approached an old man and began conversing in hushed tones. The man's excitement seemed to grow with every word exchanged until he all but grabbed the Uchiha's arm and yanked him behind the shelving unit on his left, freezing Sakura's blood in her veins. With little thinking on her part, she dashed after them, heart in her throat with fear for the poor man's safety, all the while wondering what human with operative survival instincts would dare _drag_ Uchiha Itachi by the arm.

When she finally skidded to a stop at the end of the narrow isle in a panting mess of breaths and limbs, the sight that greeted her forced a meek, audible screech from her throat. She floundered for a moment, then calmly, orderly turned away from the two men who hadn't even acknowledged her presence and retraced her steps back outside. Once in the vicinity of excess oxygen, she rubbed her temples in soothing, circular motions to settle her nerves. She didn't know what she'd expected to find in that dusty isle; perhaps a session of senseless torture as the Uchiha punished the old man for laying a finger on him. Or maybe she'd expected to be too late, left to stare into the lifeless eyes of a man who'd suffered the wrath of the Uchiha. These things would have made sense to her. She had no reason to expect anything more - or less. What she _hadn't_ been expecting to find, however, was a crouching Uchiha Itachi browsing the books on the bottom shelf beside the kind-eyed, smiling man.

"Haruno-san?"

A shameless shriek tore from her throat as she jumped and spun, hand instinctively reaching for a newly acquired kunai before freezing when she came face to face with the object of her distress. He stood, wholly calm and collected, and stared at her.

She forced feeling back into her limbs by folding her arms in as nonchalant a gesture as she could manage. "Yes?"

"Did you need anything else?"

"No." _Just my sanity._

"Then we will head over to our accommodation for the evening." He turned and began a casual stroll down the road. A tortured sigh left her lips as she trailed after him.

They entered an inn through a tastefully decorated entrance. The reception desk was at the end of a short, lantern-lit path. The interior was nothing extravagant - simply clean and cozy - but it was not a setting one would imagine the Akatsuki lodging at. In fact, Sakura realized with no little amount of horror, it looked like a place _she_ would choose to stay at, and even the prospect of being coincidental neighbours with S-rank criminals when on vacation was disturbing enough to make her quash that thought quickly and entirely.

"One room, two beds, please," he addressed the young woman behind the counter in his soft tones.

"One room?!" She turned on him accusingly, shock and anger setting aside her reservations for a moment.

He disregarded her, and she thought he wouldn't dignify her with a response - until finally, from the corner of his eye, onyx slowly met emerald. Whatever he saw made him release a soft breath - she realized it was a sigh after a moment - before turning to face her fully.

"I would like to trust you Haruno-san, however I cannot risk you attempting an escape or contacting your village at this time," he said, sounding almost troubled. "I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter."

Her eyebrows rose into her hairline. "Are you saying you couldn't stop me if I tried?" Unfortunately for her self-esteem, her voice carried more skepticism than she'd intended.

He smiled - again - and tipped his head casually to the side. "As much as I am flattered by your confidence in my abilities, I don't underestimate fellow shinobi." The mirth that'd sparked behind his eyes reached the pleasant tones of his voice.

Sakura blinked and turned away, at a complete loss for words. She wet her dry mouth to try and gather her wits about herself - the very wits this man had a habit of messing with. She wasn't sure if she ought to be flattered or frustrated, but needless to say she was feeling no little of both. It wasn't everyday that her abilities were taken seriously - though quite possibly overestimated in this scenario.

It was then that she noted the unusually lengthy silence that'd settled over the room. She glanced at the reception desk - only to find the young woman rooted to the spot, an epitome of stupefaction with widened eyes, flushed cheeks, a gaping mouth, and a faint trickle of drool on the corner of her lips.

She furrowed her brows, puzzled, and followed her line of sight...to the Uchiha, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable and had taken to gazing past the woman while waiting patiently for her to come to her senses.

Her eyes lidded over in a lazy blink before flickering between the two. When it finally dawned on her, she barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Excuse me?" The snap was poorly contained. She was more than ready for that shower.

The woman's eyes whipped to hers before widening further in startled shock, clearly only just noting her presence and inadvertently deepening Sakura's scowl. She mumbled a small "sorry" and blushed a few shades of red before getting to work.

A depleted sigh escaped her lips. If only she knew the target of her ogling, she'd consider herself lucky for not being Katon'd to death for her inconvenience. Then again, he hadn't made a comment. As the woman disappeared to fetch their key, Sakura risked a glance, curious despite herself.

He had an arm draped over the desk, looking almost casual despite the ever-rigidity of his posture. And as she searched for what the woman might have been staring at, she was more than a little disturbed to find a Greek God standing where a criminal had been a moment ago.

His complexion wasn't as pale as Sasuke's, who'd sometimes looked unhealthy in his pallor, but was still on the fair side, with skin seemingly smooth enough to make even Ino jealous. He wasn't bulky or brawny but lean as a sprinter would be - likely a result of the training that'd earned him his inexhaustible agility and speed. His slight figure had his muscles rippling in softer curves instead of harsh ones, and it fit him well somehow. The small metal hoops of his necklace glistened under the lighting in the room, stressing the sharp edges of his collarbone. Smooth, jet-black hair fell over his shoulders and arms - she thought it may be a shade or two lighter than Sasuke's but couldn't quite remember - and contrasted exotically with his skin while shorter bangs softened the hard line of his jaw. High cheekbones lead a trail to the upward slant of his almond shaped eyes that were defined by sinfully long, dusky eyelashes that curled over onyx pupils, almost brushing his lids with every blink.

And he did blink.

Sakura snapped her head down with said blink, sporting a suddenly-too-dry throat. Her glimpse had turned into a thorough inspection, and no doubt he'd been aware of it the entire time. She fought the creeping blush that threatened to betray her embarrassment. So he was quite attractive - it was hardly news to her. She'd already memorized the fine lines of his face time and time again. Forced captivity would have anyone desperate enough for a distraction, and she was positive she'd have given the same meticulous attention to a worm had she found herself detained with one instead. Worm or Uchiha Itachi, it made little difference - in fact the animal may have proven more intriguing since she was already used to Uchiha genes. It came as no surprise that an appealing male like Sasuke had an attractive older brother.

With the return of one flushed girl, they received their key and headed to the room. It was a simple western-style set up: two beds split by a night stand, a closet, a desk with a sole chair, and a door to what she assumed to be the bathroom.

The instant the door shut closed, Sakura found herself struck by a case of senseless claustrophobia. A shiver slithered up her spine as her senses buzzed in high alert of the danger in the room. She clutched her new gear to her chest and flung her tools onto a bed before dashing for the bathroom without a backward glance. She may or may not have slammed the door - it was all fuzzy - before sliding down onto the tiles in a crumpled, ungraceful heap of limbs. And then finally, the dam burst.

She hiccuped through the tears that fell with abandon, occasionally losing track of where or why she was even crying. She was suffering from a form of mental instability, possibly PTSD - she hadn't had the time for a proper diagnosis - and was now paying the price for suppressing her emotions that day.

She'd expected it though. It was no easy feat coming out unscathed from prolonged torture by the Sharingan. Her mind was only just beginning to get a grip on itself, and unfortunately, the treatment wouldn't be a simple case of healing chakra. And that man - that _monster_ \- standing behind this door was only worsening her condition.

Not only had he sealed her fate, which had implications not only for her but for Naruto and her village as well that Sakura was trying hard not to dwell on, he was behaving...oddly. Not that she had a reference to base S-rank criminal behaviour on, but she'd heard no little whispers of the horrors of Uchiha Itachi and his mind games. He had no match when it came to genjutsu - even without having to rely on those dreadful eyes - and Sakura thought he might be playing with her mind. She was feeling thoroughly fooled, if not frustrated. It wasn't too difficult to look past it with the crippling fear weighing her down, but she couldn't understand how civility was supposed to be a form of torture. Then again, instead of terrorizing her in the normal sense of the word, he was terrifying her in a whole other way she couldn't fathom. Perhaps that was torture enough. Thinking on it was physically hurting her fragile mind.

Her head fell into her palms where teardrops gathered and overflowed. She just wanted it to stop. She wanted to go home... She missed Konoha. She missed her shishou, her parents, Kakashi-sensei, Naruto...

Naruto.

Her eyes snapped open to the image of a foxy grin beneath a pair of ocean-blue eyes, and she scrambled to her feet in speeds even the head rush couldn't keep up with. Her wet hands slammed on the sides of the sink, and in that small mirror above the faucet, Sakura looked at herself for the first time in weeks.

And it was as though it was the first time, _ever_. It took her a moment to recognize the pale, sunken skin and the blood-shot, red rimmed eyes as her own. The dull green were cradled by deep hollows, her lips were chapped and bloody, and the maroon-brown layer atop her head had hidden all traces of pink. She stared, and she stared. She stared long after the last tear had fallen from her chin, leaving behind only a damp trail.

She was Haruno Sakura, was she not? She could see it in the shape of her nose, in the arch of her brows, in that tiny scar on the soft skin of her left eye. She was the apprentice to Senju Tsunade, the most powerful kunoichi across the Five Great. She was a distinguished, competent medic-nin. She was a shinobi of Konohagakure, ready to lay down her life for the sake of her village.

But most importantly, she was Uzumaki Naruto's friend.

The boy who'd endured more pain, more hardships than anyone else she'd ever known. The boy who never failed to seize the day with unyielding determination. The boy who pushed her to become her very best.

Sakura wiped the damp trails on her cheeks with the back of her hand. She wouldn't cry. She was better than this. She would _be_ better than this and make him proud. And if she was given the chance, she would protect him with her life.

She saw the light ignite in her eyes as though a flame had flickered to life in their depths; her very own will of fire right behind her green irises, like the green of the leaf she protected. A smile cracked over her stony features and she nodded at herself once before turning away with newfound resolve. She washed herself clean of every last reminder of her confinement. The water stained a deep maroon before swirling and disappearing down the drain, taking with it the horrors and the memories.

She took her time getting dressed, then settled down to heal her head wound, relishing the familiar warmth that seeped under her skin with healing chakra. Within minutes, all physical traces of the last few weeks were history.

She gathered her clothes, gave herself another nod and exited the bathroom, no more willing but no less determined to face the menace. He was looking out the window and disregarded her completely as she approached her chosen bed, but just as she began towel-drying her hair, she caught him make a hesitant move in her peripheral vision. Sakura turned to glance in his direction - and instead spotted her hitai-ate on the soft carpeted floor. It must have fallen from her pile.

And then there he was, taking measured steps until he towered over it. He crouched down with painstaking care, and there was an odd moment's pause when his hand hovered above the plate, the burning intensity of his gaze drilling into the object, before his fingers grazed past the red ribbon to close around cool metal. Sakura watched, transfixed, as his thumb slid over the plate horizontally, gently, from one end to the other across the leaf symbol, before he rose just as slowly and finally met her gaze. Onyx swirled with something unreadable, something latent but undeniably present beneath the smouldering coals of his eyes. She could only stare back, entirely unaware of her own expression, as he closed the distance between them and offered it to her.

This alien feeling was...strange, again. She couldn't sort through the sensations that came along with her perceptions. She reached out, cautiously, and her fingers wrapped around the opposite end of the plate. It felt as though they stood like that for a single heartbeat, both holding on, both expectant, until his hand fell away and he turned to disappear behind the bathroom door.

Sakura stared after him with furrowed brows, hand still hovering - until her heart seemed to kickstart from pause, jackhammering almost painfully behind her ribcage. She drew a palm to her chest, clutching at the pain as she gasped for air. What had just happened? Like waking from a dream, the intensity of his gaze burned more vividly in her mind. Her eyes trailed down to the plate, swept across the beautiful symbol, and Sakura found herself running her index finger along it, over the same course his thumb had followed only moments ago. She frowned.

The sound of running water reached her ears. She gave a little shake to shrug off the last few seconds before tying her hitai-ate around her head with a customary double knot at her nape. A trembling breath made its way into her lungs as she directed her attention to sorting through her new equipment.

She assembled her weapons holster in its usual setup, then gazed thoughtfully at the rest of her tools. Usually the vials, writing utensils and scrolls would be carried on her person, but Sakura wasn't sure how often she'd be needing them. So, reaching for a scroll, she performed a basic sealing technique and stored them away until future use. Satisfied, she placed the scroll inside her pouch before settling on the bed - and immediately melted into the covers. It was hard to take note of her exhaustion when a constant spike of adrenaline was keeping her on her toes, and the lulling sound of the shower was more than enough to tip her over the edge. But just before her senses grew fuzzy, her gaze landed on an object on the other bed. Curious, she lifted her head for a better look.

It was a book. Rather, his recent purchase from the bookstore-of-terror, as she'd be be calling it henceforth. Intrigued as with most books, she reached for it to read the faded title.

 _Origins of Land of Ancestors_

 _Pre-Civilization War: Methods and Philosophies_

Pink brows rose slowly. He was't much for light reads, it would seem. She skimmed through the pages when she failed to locate an author - and the reason became clear shortly after. It wasn't a single, continuous book; rather it consisted of various excerpts that'd been gathered and placed under one cover. The colours of the pages varied, indicating their relative age. Even the font changed from one page to the other - a selection of typings to hand-written calligraphy to scribbles of notes. She turned to a page and skimmed an excerpt:

 _Commenced with independent centres of origin, practices in agriculture brought forth expedient applications for civilization; one such as the assembly of the papyrus pith, which, although deemed high in regard, sought arduous methods, prompting violent disputes over its constituents.  
_ _Example: Taiyou-Hoshi Conflict (73.9 – 42.4) / 357 dispatched for battle…_

The water shut off. Sakura turned to another page.

 _The mythical origins of the sapling... that which reaches stars of ancient era...roots extend to the core of blue earth...a single damned fruit banned of harvest...eating at the red…_

The sound of an opening door had her snapping the book shut and swiftly returning it to the bed. She avoided his gaze even as he approached her side of the room.

"We will head outside for a meal," he announced.

She glanced at him - and took a moment to inspect his new garb: a mesh shirt beneath a dark gray v neck with matching three quarter pants. His calves were bandaged over his ninja sandals and his hair was tied, now hanging low and loose down his back. He stared at her blankly, waiting.

She turned away. "I have soldier pills." Her body's need for sleep was overpowering her hunger.

"Soldier pills are insufficient for your needs, Haruno-san," he countered, and she could just about hear the frown in his voice. "You require adequate nutrition if you wish to recover fully, which no doubt you know better than I do."

Emerald eyes narrowed and trailed back to him. How was it that he'd delivered a scolding remark and still made her feel praised? Now she was getting pissed. Why was it any of his concern anyway? He'd already cooked for her twice - a gesture her last captor had fully neglected. "Why?"

His eyebrow rose in that questioning arch she was growing familiar with. "Why am I encouraging you to eat? Starving a captive is not the most efficient way of killing them, Haruno-san." She saw the quirk of his lips in a passing smile and faltered - was this his attempt at making a joke?

She rose from the bed and rounded on him, having had just about enough. "Your fellow Akatsuki did the honors of sustaining me for over a week with a single soldier pill," she grit out. "Tobi, was it? I fail to see the reason for this change in your hosting manners."

His eyes narrowed minutely - the first display of displeasure she'd ever seen on him - but the fury behind emeralds was not to be quelled despite a significant part of her brain cowering in fear. Surprisingly, his Sharingan hadn't made an appearance. Yet.

And then the blank features returned, possibly more so than before. "You are of no use to me weak," he murmured softly, but with the same cold tinge from when he'd threatened Naruto's life. Sakura winced - at his tone or his use of that godforsaken word, she wasn't sure. Right - she had to be at her best to tend to his mighty Sharingan. Again, she was left with no choice but to lower her eyes and follow after him as he exited the room.

He drew to a halt beyond the inn's exit and gazed down the poorly lit street under the dim twilight. "What would you like to eat?"

She threw him an incredulous look - one that he missed - at the return of his civil mood and remained silent. They began a slow stroll, and he spared her a searching glance from the corner of his eye, at which point she simply shrugged.

Street lights flickered to life as they ventured further, and soon enough the road was buzzing with growing crowds in time for dinner. She eyed the food vendors with no real interest, mind idle with fatigue, until a particularly loud slurp reached her ears.

She looked up on instinct - and spotted a man with slick brown hair inhaling his ramen in a painfully familiar manner...right beside a young boy with spiky blonde hair.

A smile tried its chance on her lips but only got as far as a grimace before her gaze fell back on the road. Would she ever share another meal with him?

"Ramen," he affirmed and started toward the vendor before she could utter a single word of protest. So instead she scowled and resumed her embodiment of a tail.

An enthusiastic young man beamed at them from behind the counter. "What can I get you two?"

The Uchiha glanced at her and remained quiet. When the silence had stretched long enough to border uncomfortable, it became apparent that she was to order first. She almost groaned in exasperation. "Miso Chashu Ramen please," she intoned weakly.

"Two, please," he added before making way for her to take a seat. Her weary mind couldn't even muster a thought of protest, and she sank into a seat at the booth. To her absolute trepidation, he sat right beside her, and this time even her lassitude couldn't stop a sudden call of danger from shooting up her spine. Their food seemed to take all eternity to arrive, and if Sakura had had the sense to look past her terror, she may have found those prolonged minutes to be nothing short of _awkward_ in the most cringeworthy way.

At long last they turned to their individual meals in complete silence - after his quiet "Itadakimasu" that she wasn't sure was meant for her ears. She tried her hardest to focus on her bowl and make the most of the situation; she was having a warm, filling meal for the first time in a long time. But the fact remained that she was sitting elbow-to-elbow with an S-rank missing-nin - with Uchiha Itachi, in particular - and one said elbow had at one point brushed hers in a moment of debilitating horror on her part. But truthfully, Sakura was more shook by the fact that she was simply sharing a meal with him on a crowded street, surrounded by serene, habitual chatter. The normality of the situation was enough to make her tremble.

The silence ensued long after they'd returned to the inn. When she'd finally taken refuge under the covers and perched herself as far from him as was physically possible, he ruptured the quiet.

"We will be departing past dawn, and you will heal my eyes before we leave," he declared softly, tone giving the impression that she could very well refuse but the nature of his words indicating otherwise.

She didn't respond and instead gripped the covers tighter as though they were her life line. Her muscles refused to be relieved of their comforting tension. She'd drifted to sleep so easily the night before, but now with food in her system, her body was pumping with excess energy. She chanced a cautious peek behind her and glimpsed his figure staring out the window. She wondered idly what he could be looking at before letting her eyes drift closed.

Had it really only been a day? It felt so, so much longer. It'd undoubtedly been one of the most draining days of her life - physically, mentally, _emotionally_ \- and Sakura realized she had to come to terms with the fact that she'd have to live through many more. But at the same time... She had to admit, it'd been nothing like what she'd initially imagined. _He_ was not what she'd imagined. Or expected. At least not in the generic sense... Perhaps her previous impression had been entirely misguided. He didn't quite strike her as someone who would openly torture his victims - he seemed much too withdrawn for that. So it would be his mind games she'd have to watch out for.

She couldn't blame herself for expecting otherwise, however. Since the day she'd learned of Sasuke's desire - _need_ \- for revenge and the reasons behind it, all evidence she'd gathered had served as further proof that Uchiha Itachi was a ruthless, vicious criminal who did everything for his own benefit. Criminals could show manners, could they not? And they could be considerate. And polite. And they could sound somewhat pleasant...

She shook her head. It didn't change the fact that he was one of the most talented, most dangerous men to ever exist. If anything, it meant that she had to be more careful. More alert.

But it also meant that she was more afraid...

* * *

 _Itachi's eyes fluttered shut behind white porcelain. He felt for the three crows circling in the distance, then folded his arms and leaned back on the boulder to listen to the forest hums in peaceful silence._

 _A minute shift in the air prompted a pair of Sharingan to blaze under his mask. Crimson orbs trailed up the towering pine above him._

 _"_ _Shisui?" he called quietly, lowering his mask, then followed him into the thick foliage._

 _He slowed down when he approached the familiar scenery. Sounds of burbling water ruptured the silence as the Nakano continued its steady glide with graceful purpose. Itachi_ _looked on at the edge, at his friend's back under the dim glow of moonlight._

 _"_ _Shisui," Itachi addressed him again when the young man remained unspeaking._

 _"_ _It's too late to stop the coup, Itachi." Shisui's voice came with a quiet kind of gravity, with a tinge of poorly concealed sorrow that cut Itachi almost as deeply as the implications of his words did. His friend inhaled softly before continuing._ _"_ _A civil war between the Uchiha and the village will mean…" His words trailed off as though they'd been swept by the warm wind, when suddenly even the air stilled in nervous anticipation._

 _"_ _War," they announced in unison. Itachi clenched his jaw._

 _"_ _No doubt other nations would take advantage of the situation," Shisui added lightly._

 _A grave silence strained between them as the pair found themselves struck by a reality that'd seemed so improbable only weeks ago._

 _"_ _I know I told you not to get involved, Itachi," the older boy started again. "They're still suspicious of you, but…" Shisui gazed up at the crescent moon, a_ _breeze hollowing the quality of his ensuing tone._ _"I'm afraid I'll have to burden you with this," he breathed._

 _Itachi struggled to swallow._

 _Shisui continued. "With Hokage-sama's permission,_ _I'd planned to use my Kotoamatsukami on Fugaku to stop the coup, to change his mind..." He slowly turned to finally face him. "But Danzou stole my right eye."_

 _Itachi's heart stumbled in its rhythm when he saw the blood gushing down his friend's empty socket, painted a glowing silver under the moonlit night._

 _"It seems that he doesn't trust me - neither does he trust Hokage-sama's methods to deal with this. He doesn't believe changing Fugaku's mind would end the Uchiha's efforts in the long run..." Shisui let his words hang for a moment._ _"_ _I suspect he will come for my left eye as well, so I'd like to give it to you before he has a chance._ _Please keep it safe for me..."_

 _His hand trailed to his remaining eye, and with a quick work of his fingers, Shisui rendered himself blind without so much as a grunt. Blood dripped like tears and stained his unblemished cheek. "_ _You're the only person I can count on, Itachi, as my best friend," he murmured softly with a small upward quirk of his lips. He held out his eye, his bloody eyelids creasing with his smile._

 _"Shisui..."_ _Itachi swallowed, at a loss for words, and took a moment to watch his friend closely. His pulse rang loud in his ears. At long last, he blinked._

 _The cawing tunes of a crow sounded above them. It dived and reached for the eye in Shisui's grip before scattering into a flurry of black feathers that fluttered around the two friends._

 _The smile slowly fell from Shisui's face. "_ _Take my advice on this, Itachi," he began again carefully, with a different kind of serious. "I know you've done so many times before, but… Take a look at the stone tablet one more time." His expression was unreadable._

 _Itachi frowned. "The stone tablet?"_

 _"_ _Trust me," Shisui asserted. "Tell me you will."_

 _Itachi's lips set in a grim line. "_ _I will."_

 _"_ _Gomen, Itachi, I must leave this burden on your shoulders,"_ _his friend said gravely, defeated, before he_ _straightened and looked right at Itachi as though he could see him - as though he could see_ into _him. "Please protect our village…and the honor of the Uchiha name."_

 _The depth of emotion that carried in his voice squeezed Itachi's chest painfully. "I will," he vowed to his best friend before hesitation swept through him. He took an uncertain step forward._ _"And what will you do_ _?"_

 _A strange smile played across Shisui's lips. "_ _I have become a liability, Itachi. My death is necessary for the village to move forward." His friend took the few steps backward that placed him at the edge of the cliff. "If I die, many things will change."_

 _Itachi's heart gave a violent shudder before seemingly halting. A dawning, petrifying chill descended his spine, and without a moment's thought, he_ _leapt forward, reaching for his friend, arms extended as if to catch him. To stop him._ _"_ _NO, Shisui—"_

 _Shisui let go. "_ _Don't try to stop me, Itachi... If you're truly my friend."_

 _He hovered in the air for a brief moment that seemed to stretch for an eternity. Itachi's hands closed around empty air, and it was in that heart-stopping, excruciating moment that Itachi realized he wasn't going to reach him in time._

 _"_ _SHISUI!" The scream finally tore from his throat. He stared wide-eyed as his friend fell to his death, arm still extended over the cliff, still reaching, still frozen, clutching at nothingness as he watched the Nakano river swallow the boy who'd been an older brother to him. His cousin. His best friend...  
_

 _The scream ripping at his throat knew no end. His lungs were on fire. He was suffocating, and it felt as though he'd swallowed a pound of bricks._

 _And then there was blinding pain. A pain that came as a flash, in piercing crimson reds that cut across his eyes, but its agony was nothing on the ache of his heart over his loss._

'Self-sacrifice. A nameless shinobi who protects peace from within its shadow.'

 _Shisui…_

 _SHISUI!_


	4. Mariana

**A/N: Hello again! I'm so happy that so many of you are excited about this story. Itachi is my all-time favorite character and I'm really trying my best to do him justice.**

 **It honestly gives me great joy reading what you all have to say about how the story is progressing, so feel free to leave a review!**

 **Have a good read!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

 _ **~ More Than Meets The Eye ~**_

Crimson orbs snapped open to the booming echoes of his late friend's name. He jerked upright over the sweat-drenched sheets and clung to his chest for dear life, afraid that his heart would burst right out of his ribcage. The room before him was a picture of peaceful tranquility - too calm, and a painful contrast to his raging inner pandemonium, making nothing but a mockery out of his agony. The tremors lingered long after he'd blinked away his Mangekyou, but the Sharingan refused to fade.

He'd never quite escaped the hollow trenches of loss since that godforsaken day, and the belligerent tides had returned in full force to haul him back into their depthless pools of grief.

His incorrigible breaths subsided long enough for him to spot a pair of emerald eyes gleaming like gemstones in the ill-lit backdrop. Paying her no heed, he heaved himself off the bed and padded to the window, succumbing to the urge to rest his weary limbs against the weathered frame.

It had been a while.

The memory had once been a recurrent nightmare among the extensive collection that were his night terrors, but it'd now been over six months since he'd last been forced to watch his friend kill himself. The past few months of Itachi's life had been spent in eager anticipation of his pending battle against his brother, and in hindsight, he supposed it was only natural that both his thoughts and his dreams – none that were bad, thankfully – had revolved around his otouto. Though now, it came as no surprise that Shisui had seized his mind once again, considering where he was headed.

Truthfully, he had no qualms about enduring the nightmares – the subconsciously moulded horrors of his life reiterated back to him in painful, warped scenarios. It was his memories – the real terrors – that he couldn't tolerate. They were cruel, merciless and compelled him to relive the darkest moments of his life over and over again.

He could feel the intense gaze boring into his back and wondered what expression had seized her features now as she watched him in that scrutinizing way he'd caught her do several times. The girl gave everything away.

Onyx finally returned in lieu of crimson, and a relieved sigh escaped his lips. His forehead fell against the windowpane speckled with condensed droplets from the brisk night, and he let the cool sensation lull the remaining throbs behind his eyes. He looked over the small patio decked with a single bench and a fastened sunshade, and then at the overlaid trail that lead to the edge of the village and the greenery beyond. Seeing the beauty for himself rather than relying on imagination brought him nothing short of happiness of the rare kind - the kind that was easy, genuine and carefree.

The soft breaths behind him gradually grew heavy. She still had over an hour's worth of sleep before dawn, and Itachi seized the perfect opportunity to bask in the minutes that lead to his favorite time of day. He broadened the genjutsu that served as caution for any escape attempts before leaping on agile feet through the window and settling himself on the roof, ready to admire the first rays of day paint the horizon.

Four crows perched beside him, and a wistful smile shaped Itachi's lips as he absorbed the serenity that hung over the earth during these preciously desolate moments when life seemed to come to a standstill. The next hour flew by in a whirlwind of colour; the sky donned a dark violet before hues of baby blue bled to pinks and oranges. The magical phenomena - which he decided he'd never tire of for as long as his eyes could see - slowly roused the world from its deep slumber. The first chirps of life resounded in the distance, and Itachi closed his eyes to listen. The sense of peace was enough to hold his grief at bay, and before long, the torturously vivid memory had ebbed away to a more manageable corner of his mind. It was all too soon that he sensed movement below and stood to return to the room.

He descended from the window just as she was exiting the bathroom. She paused and regarded him expectantly, her posture tense and wary.

"You will not be healing me this morning. We will depart shortly," he answered her questioning gaze before proceeding to the bathroom. He still felt uneasy from his memory-fashioned nightmare and was less than willing to receive any form of physical contact. Either way, it made little difference to him; he had no pressing concerns with his eyes, and the healing sessions would merely attest to his excuse for holding her captive.

When they were ready to head out, he retrieved the two black cloaks he'd purchased the day before and extended one to the kunoichi, who looked at him and then at the garment as if they'd just offended her before averting her gaze and accepting his offer. He headed to the door and stood to the side to give way.

Throwing another offended glance his way, she walked past. At least she no longer looked at him as if he'd just sprouted an extra head every time he displayed some manners. He had to admit that it confused him slightly.

"Stop doing that," she muttered as she stepped into the hallway. As was his usual response to most things that left the girl's lips, he blinked and raised a single eyebrow, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"All the manners and civility," she clarified, sporting a pronounced tension in the line of her shoulders, before quietly adding, "It's unfitting" as if unsure whether she intended for him to hear that part.

"Common courtesy is unfit for certain occasions?" he posed, face blank.

"Not for certain occasions. Just…for certain people," she replied in a strained voice, avoiding his gaze.

"You may find that many practice common courtesy. Hence the common affiliation, I'd assume," he imparted with the ghost of a smile. He didn't blame her for assuming he'd be a cold, rude, vicious man, and he wasn't offended in the slightest - in fact, watching her attempts to plausibly justify his behaviour was proving to be intriguing.

"Actually," she muttered matter-of-factly, "that's one of the misconceptions about common courtesy – it really isn't that common."

Refraining from responding, he walked over to the reception desk to return their key and was relieved to see no sign of the girl from the previous day. They exited the inn and turned in the direction of the forest.

"It makes you uncomfortable?" he asked when she'd fallen into step with him, his tone suggesting both a question and a statement. She frowned and ignored him, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

Shortly after a quick breakfast, they were skimming through the trees once more with no other pending stops. They were in the northeastern region of the Land of Fire, moving southwards at close proximity to the Land of Hot Water border. With the peaceful relations between the two nations, patrols in the area were notably scarcer compared to the western region of Fire Country, and Itachi had found good reason to lengthen their travelling distance to reduce the likelihood of encountering any shinobi.

He noted their faster pace and caught a glimpse of the girl running beside him. She was definitely on her way to a brisk recovery; her skin was gradually losing its sickly pale hue and color was returning her cheeks – the lightest shade of pink he'd last seen before his eyes had started deteriorating. He'd had no expectations of the kunoichi prior to the start of their travels and she was pleasantly surprising him; no doubt she was faster than the average shinobi, and Itachi was confident they'd make good time if she persisted.

Sharingan blazing, he focused on the road ahead while attempting to deter thoughts of Shisui from his mind, but it was futile. With the recollection of his friend's death, his mind had unveiled memories that Itachi had thought were long buried beneath the frail edges of his mind...

* * *

 _He trudged up the stone steps with lead-heavy feet. Feeble attempts to steady his trembling limbs were made in vain, he knew._

 _The last two days of his life had been spent in bitter acknowledgement. The foolish arrogance of the Uchiha was nothing new, but never could he have imagined just how pathetically narrow-minded they would be - and they were supposed to be one of the most prominent clans in history. Itachi fought the urge to grimace. Their despicable schemes would cost the village so much more than they had the capacity to imagine. They were utterly delusional, and it was driving Itachi down a depthless ditch of rage that was wholly foreign to him._

 _Bearing a heavy heart and a steady resolve, he hauled himself over the last step and crossed the entrance to the main hall._ _It was pitch black inside, but he could maneuver through the familiar route with his eyes closed. He dragged his feet down the hallway_ _until he reached_ _the seventh tatami mat from the far right and swiftly slipped underneath._

 _The two flames flickered to life upon his approach. His gaze fleeted over the engravings of two fans on the far wall; they stared him down, daring to mock him after the parade he'd made of mutilating the symbol the day before._

 _He stopped before the renowned stone tablet that had never truly sought his attention. It meant little to him - yet another tool for the Uchiha to exploit on their meaningless quest for power. Onyx orbs wandered over the worn patterns that were indiscernible without the proper eye-power. His heart pounded painfully against his ribcage as onyx bled to crimson and spun to their newly-acquired shape. The unfamiliar weight of his eyes only served to remind him of the last moments of his best friend's life from two nights ago - when he'd been crushed under the harsh truth that nothing would ever be the same. Not after that fateful night._

 _Crimson patterns roamed the tablet, absorbing the information that'd been recounted after Uchiha Madara had accessed the Mangekyou for the first time. He stared unblinkingly, aware that Shisui wouldn't have insisted so strongly, seconds before his death, if it hadn't been crucial._

 _Minutes ticked by as Itachi memorized the shapes before him. At long last, a tingle pulsed inside his chest, inseparable, at first, from the ache of his broken heart. But the sensation intensified, as though a flame had been kindled to life. Along with it, the traces of an indistinct pattern began to materialize on the Uchiha tablet – one that hadn't been there moments ago. With an abrupt, intense throb, the spark dispersed and roamed his entire body, leaving a trail of pleasing warmth in its wake, before dulling to beat in sequence to his heart. In a matter of seconds, Itachi found himself staring at an excerpt that differed from the rest – as if it'd been hidden beneath another layer of the tablet. His Mangekyou spun briefly to read the words before him._

Hail, beloved son of Indra.

 _The instant his mind had processed the words, a shiver shot up his spine and the tablet glowed a blinding gold before the room was submerged in utter darkness. Itachi distantly realized that he was panting, and his alert, searching eyes wandered over the tablet once again – and that's when he spotted it._

 _The stone tablet itself looked the same - evidence of any new additions had simply vanished. He stared, frozen on his feet, at the modest object that hadn't been there a second ago. He wondered if Shisui had witnessed this – or if anyone else had, for that matter – and if so, why it had never been mentioned._

 _Resting on top of the stone tablet, no wider than the length of his hand, was a small, tattered scroll._

* * *

Uncharacteristically hollow blue eyes stared at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. His grip tightened, fingertips paling under the pressure, as he turned to his silver-haired sensei to gauge his reaction. The man's avoidant gaze was all the answer Naruto needed.

 _Abandon mission. Return immediately._

There was no questioning the hurried scribble of the Godaime, and Naruto racked his brain in search of a rational explanation for the Hokage's abrupt request to cease their search for her apprentice a day early. She'd know that every minute was invaluable, and a single day could make all the difference.

He was aware of her level of attachment to Sakura, so Naruto could only imagine the worst for her untimely command. Seconds ticked by as the gravity of the situation descended over the group, and the palpable tension grew thick enough to slice with a kunai. The grim features mirroring one another were only too telling of the horrific scenarios they were all devising in their heads.

"Let's go," Kakashi commanded tightly after a torturous minute of silence. There was nothing else to be said, and Naruto found he could form no words of resistance as they took off towards Konoha.

The discovery of their friend's unlikely captor had left them in shock; Uchiha Itachi was supposed to be dead. Once the initial heart-wrenching anxiety over Sakura's safety had somewhat subsided, his other teammate had taken over his thoughts: what had happened to Sasuke? Did this mean he had lost? The Akatsuki had announced Itachi's death in their presence – had they been trying to deceive them? Their group had been unable to justify why they'd wish to do so.

Tracking Uchiha Itachi had proven to be even more challenging than their earlier efforts, if such adversity was even possible. Apart from the traces of chakra that lingered in the rubble, any sign of his or Sakura's presence had been nonexistent. Even Kakashi had seemingly lost some of his resolve when faced with the impossible task of locating the Uchiha; after all, he was most closely familiar with the ex-ANBU captain's level of skill.

It made little difference now. With their return to Konoha, it was unlikely that they'd be given another chance at locating his teammate any time soon. Willing the chakra to cease its swarming in his gut, Naruto's thoughts turned to Konoha; whatever had happened, it had better be worth it.

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Her voice cut through the silence of the last four hours, carrying every hint of the displeasure she felt about travelling to an undisclosed location with him.

"Where are w—"

"Land of Rivers."

He was faced with a persistent kunoichi, it would seem. It occurred to him that she bore ample courage questioning the dangerous, intolerable man he supposed she saw him as – or she was just that stubborn. He had no reason to keep this information from her, although he wasn't inclined to share it.

She grew quiet.

"The Akatsuki hideout…" she said at last, voice tight with emotions pertaining to that particular location, and cast him a wary glance. "It was destroyed."

He absorbed her expression out of the corner of his eye, aware that she would have been present at the time of the hideout's demolition to have defeated Sasori, but was unable to discern the strange look in her eyes.

"Indeed," he said before turning his gaze back to the trees. "The hideout is not our destination." He offered no further explanation and the ensuing minutes were filled with silence.

"Your partner isn't here," she said gingerly a while later. Itachi found no reason to respond to her evident observation.

She attempted probing further with an air of nonchalance. "I was under the impression that the Akatsuki worked in pairs."

"He will not be joining us," he said with a finality that would allow no further inquiries on the subject. Their whereabouts had nothing to do with the Akatsuki and her line of questioning was meaningless.

Nevertheless, her mentioning of him drew Kisame to the forefront of his mind. He had been a loyal partner to Itachi over the last few years, and he'd spent the majority of the last decade with the shark-man. He had respected Itachi's privacy despite his many behaviors that hadn't quite made sense to the ex Kiri-nin. Itachi knew Kisame had been unhappy with the prospect of losing him as a partner, though he'd had no choice but to respect Itachi's wishes. His desire to die at Sasuke's hands had been an unspoken but accepted eventuality. Itachi had never openly revealed anything to the older man, but Kisame had always been incredible perceptive. He wondered the man's reaction if ever he found out Itachi was still alive. It was odd coming to terms with it, but Itachi would no doubt miss the familiar company of his partner.

The next few hours passed by in silence. As the sun began its descent in the afternoon sky, Itachi noted the slight lag to her step and decided she ought to take a break.

They stopped by a spring that was flowing steadily into a shallow pond. He heard a quiet sigh escape her lips as she crouched and cupped her palms over the water, drinking greedily for a few moments. Itachi mirrored her movements and felt her tense beside him.

She stepped away from him, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as her gaze carefully inspected their surroundings before fixing on the dense shrubbery at the edge of the pond. She delved into the foliage and rose gripping a cluster of stems adorned with small fruit.

"We're way out east," she murmured, picking at one of the capsules hanging off the stalk in her grip before popping it into her mouth. "How far from the coast?"

"About a day," he replied, inwardly admiring her analytical skills for having determined their location based on a fruit.

"And we are taking the long way to Rivers because…" she said with a furrowed brow, letting her words hang.

He straightened from his crouch and gazed at her blankly through half-lidded eyes. She could likely deduce the answer for herself.

Her eyes narrowed faintly. "Right… No Konoha-nin."

Well, she was partially correct; Itachi was more concerned about encountering Akatsuki, particularly Madara.

She made to turn away before faltering and eyeing him uncertainly. Her eyes flickered to her hands and back, and he couldn't do but observe the captivating way her expressions melded into one another; fear lead to hesitancy, which lead to frustration, then annoyance, and finally she lifted her head with resolve, set her lips in a hard line, and briskly strode toward him before extending one of the stems for him to take.

Inwardly startled, Itachi stared into emerald eyes that were not meeting his. He raised his hand to accept the offering and found his surprise overridden by amusement when she made a sound of displeasure at his leisured pace. His fingers curled around the stem, and he nodded his thanks as she turned away to sit as far from him as the small clearing allowed.

He remained standing as he ate the fruit she'd offered him. His tongue numbed slightly at the pungent taste. He fixed his eyes on the bark of an old tree, gaze roaming the rough pattern and distinguishing between the elder, darker wood and the light tones of the fresh skin underneath. He spotted the ants crawling hurriedly over the bumps of the terrain at their feet. He watched as a single leaf, caught in a gentle breeze, flurried along in zigzag patterns. Using his eyesight was admittedly more satisfying than using his ears, he decided, although he wasn't sure he was being unbiased.

A loud caw echoed in the distance. Sounds of flapping wings filled the clearing soon after; two settled on a branch and one perched on his shoulder, tipping its head in Itachi's direction. He picked off another fruit and watched as the crow swiftly plucked it out of his fingers. The bird's obsidian eyes met his crimson ones and regarded him closely. Itachi stared back, welcoming the familiar sense of connection, before turning to the three crows that hovered overhead. In one fluid gesture, he tugged on the remaining fruit and tossed them high; expert beaks surged forward to snatch the food, before the murder gained speed and soared high to form a ring above the forest.

When he turned back to his shoulder, he took note of the tilt to the crow's head. He followed its gaze to her immersed features; wide emerald eyes were riveted on the crow perched on his shoulder, observing the animal with open curiosity - and caution - from across the clearing.

He found himself inexplicably intrigued with her fascination and watched her observe the bird, unknowingly staring, until her eyes shifted to his and she visibly flinched under the intensity of crimson. She whipped her head down and he blinked. As if on cue, the crow abandoned its post on his shoulder and joined its pack in the sky with a final caw.

She slowly stood and approached him, eyes still cast downward. "I'm good to go," she mumbled.

He gave a subtle nod before leaping to the trees with her in tow.

* * *

Uchiha Obito walked the passage in muted strides, his mind whirling and reeling with deadlines to meet and plans yet to come to fruition. His stride was interrupted when a creature emerged silently out of the wall to his left, and his single visible eye narrowed in displeasure behind his orange mask.

"Uchiha Itachi is no longer confined," he said, addressing both halves of the man, and continued on his way toward the exit. "Find him and don't let him out of your sight. And" —he glanced back over his shoulder, baring his teeth behind his mask— " _do not_ let him detect your presence."

Behind him, the creature disappeared as quietly as it'd appeared. Obito's crimson eye flickered forms. He couldn't chase after Itachi just yet; it was almost time to collect the remaining two pieces of nine.

* * *

His lips tingled as the Katon streamed out of his mouth in a bout of familiar warmth. He pierced the fish and laid the sticks over the flames before taking a seat by the fire, seeking the prickling sensation of his genjutsu weaved around the clearing.

Once satisfied, he turned to the girl settled across from him. She was seated upright, eyes closed, legs crossed, with her hands resting on her knees – and completely motionless. He would have thought her to be meditating if not for the slight crease to her brow indicating her concentration. Puzzled, he observed her – and that's when he felt it.

Chakra, initially minuscule but steadily growing, was crawling across her body in fragments. He blinked on his Sharingan and _saw_ the soothing tingles that blanketed her pathways as they slowly inched upwards, seemingly gathering. Curiosity prompted him to attempt to devise a pattern, and sure enough, over the ensuing minutes, it became evident that the chakra was assembling, edging closer and closer to a single spot in her body – her forehead.

He blinked. He had never witnessed the Strength of a Hundred Seal - had only read about it in his younger years as being the reputable seal merged by one of the legendary Sannin. It would seem that the girl before him was more exceptional than she appeared to let on, and he was inwardly glad for not having underestimated her.

Right on cue, her eyes snapped open and clashed with his; once again she flinched under the gaze of his Sharingan before averting her eyes, her body tense with discomfort.

Itachi, however, felt none of the unease she seemed to be experiencing and recognized his increasing puzzlement over her reaction to his bloodline limit. And as with all things that piqued his curiosity, he sought to try and understand.

"My Sharingan makes you uncomfortable."

It wasn't a question. When she simply tensed further and kept her gaze locked on the flames, he tried rewording his unspoken request.

"Is there a reason for your discomfort with the Sharingan? I suspect you're familiar with it on account of my brother's."

His words seemed to have caused something intangible to snap behind her tense, somewhat fearful mien. Her gaze shot up to meet his, and Itachi distinctly felt the temperature drop despite the warmth of the fire between them. A foreign expression twisted her features in ways he'd never before seen, and she was on her feet in a heartbeat, her tendons straining audibly inside her clenched fists. If Itachi had been anyone else, he would have shrunk away from her.

"Don't you dare speak of him," she hissed, trembling with barely restrained fury.

Itachi merely observed her from beneath the curtain of his lashes, sporting a serene air of indifference as though she'd only made a comment about the weather. He'd never seen the green of her eyes shine so brightly, and the flames of the fire reflected in her irises reminded him of a raging forest fire.

"And don't you dare call him your brother. You don't deserve that privilege," she spat. "He would have finally killed you if your Akatsuki friend hadn't saved your ass. You just got lucky."

The weight of raw emotion behind her words would have been enough to crush his conscience had he not already grown immune to his own guilt over the years. Instead, he found his first reaction to be one of amusement over the prospect of Uchiha Madara being his friend, before the familiar sensation of cruel irony pulsed through his veins in response to her assertion that he'd gotten lucky. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Aside from these reflections however, he found that he didn't disagree with her. He averted his eyes and remained quiet to give her a chance to relax.

It took a few minutes of heavy breathing on her part for her to finally lower herself back down, but their short exchange as well as the kunoichi's violent reaction continued to weigh on his mind. As proven by her reasons for choosing to agreeably remain with him, there was no doubt that she was infinitely loyal to her team. She was practically sacrificing her own life to save her teammate's after all, and the way she'd defended Sasuke just now had been on pure instinct, as though the act of protecting his younger brother was so deeply engraved into her conscience that it'd required no prior consideration or hesitance on her part; however, Itachi found himself to be inexplicably puzzled.

Sasuke was no longer her teammate. In fact, they'd only been on the same team for a little under a year, after which point his brother had willingly abandoned them. That had been over three years ago, and Itachi struggled to justify the extent of her devotion to Sasuke. He had certainly expected her to value him, but he couldn't quite explain her behaviour to his satisfaction.

The harder he thought, the more clarity his mind seemed to provide, until finally one plausible explanation materialized - one he wouldn't have considered initially.

Perhaps she cared for his brother in other ways...

His face nearly twisted into a grimace as Itachi attempted to imagine the pain she must be enduring in his vicinity if her feelings truly went beyond comradeship. It had never been his intention to cause additional damage, but if his suspicions had any merit, it appeared inevitable under these circumstances.

Tense silence ensued over the next hour. They had finished their food, but neither showed signs of desiring sleep. She'd turned her side to him - likely because she didn't want him at her direct line of sight and also refused to turn her back to him - and had drawn her knees to her chest, staring into the dark abyss of night with her cloak wrapped snugly around her folded figure. Over the stretched silence, Itachi found that he was subconsciously aware of even her slightest movements. He attested it to the fact that he was now struggling to understand her. His mind had utterly tuned into her, gathering whatever information it could to help solve the challenge, which was how he took immediate notice of her drooping eyelids and rapid blinks as she resisted sleep.

"You should sleep," he said, barely loud enough to be audible over the crackling fire. She was still recovering, and her body would surely need sufficient rest, especially with their strenuous travelling.

Her silence had stretched long enough for him to no longer be expecting a response when she quietly said, "I don't see you sleeping." She didn't face him as she spoke.

Puzzled, Itachi inwardly wondered how her sleep was relevant to his.

"You don't have to stay up babysitting me, you know. I won't flee," she muttered a while later, before adding in an almost-whisper, "I actually protect the people I consider my family."

The unhindered sorrow that touched her tone was impossible to miss. Itachi blinked ever so slowly - the only outward reaction he allowed himself. He hadn't missed her insinuation, and a distantly hollow feeling seeped into his chest with her words that, although misguided, spoke the truth. He lifted his gaze from the flames to briefly meet the eyes that had turned to him. Despite his blank features, perhaps his eyes had locked onto hers with more intensity than he'd intended, because she visibly flinched under his onyx gaze before frowning slightly. But not once did she look away until he'd lowered his eyes once more.

To this day, he'd committed no greater sin, felt no greater shame; he'd failed to protect those who were dear to him, and it would forever be his greatest source of sorrow. Perhaps it'd prevented a war, but that didn't change the fact that Konoha blood - both traitor and innocent - would forever be on his hands.

His fingers rose to brush loose strands of hair off his face, and beneath the shield of his arm, he allowed a small smile to shape his lips. Indeed, she was as clear as day; he had no doubt that she would do everything in her power to protect those important to her. Her spirit and open display of loyalty were indication enough. She was a Leaf shinobi, after all.

A sudden, intense bout of pride swelled in his chest at the devoted, faithful shinobi his village had raised; times sure hadn't changed...

His smile turned bitter. He could only hope that she and her fellow shinobi would never face the circumstances he had - or if they did, he hoped they would do better.

Abruptly, he found himself faced with the violent urge to just tell her the truth - if anything to guarantee that she wouldn't repeat his mistakes. The yearning was strong enough to cause an itch in the pit of his stomach, but the impulse vanished as quickly as it'd appeared.

He had fleetingly considered coming clean to her when they'd initially crossed paths. If Sasuke was aware of the truth behind the massacre as Itachi suspected he was, there was a strong possibility of her and others finding out sooner or later.

But that didn't mean they would.

Itachi was adamant that no one ever find out; if there was even the slightest chance that he'd be able to hold onto his secret, he was willing to do everything in his power to make it so. He had to prevent the possibility of her and other Konoha-nin ever bearing a grudge against the village they so heroically fought to protect.

Nevertheless, if for whatever reason he even _wished_ to confess, Itachi hadn't the faintest clue how. He'd never spoken it out loud, and he didn't think he would know how to go about telling someone. Words had never come easy to him.

And so he had decided that she would be kept in the dark. It occurred to him that she may be growing suspicious of his behavior - no doubt she'd expected him to be the same ruthless man his reputation so strongly favored. Itachi was aware that perhaps he ought to be more careful in acting his part around her, but truthfully, he simply saw no reason to. It was merely the two of them - two shinobi fighting for the same side, unbeknownst to her - and it made no logical sense to frighten her so when she already seemed to fear him senselessly.

Itachi swallowed and lifted his gaze one final time to glance at her stiff, folded figure.

She was suffering enough already.

* * *

Sakura leaned over her knees with a grimace. A quiet grunt escaped her lips at the painful yet relieving sensation. She sighed, sat back up, and took to stretching her thighs.

She was sore. So unbelievably sore. Almost as sore as she'd been during her first few weeks training with her shishou. She had expected it, though; running for over twelve hours a day after remaining completely stationary for almost two weeks was no easy feat.

She turned to glance at the man behind her. He'd been leaning against that tree, utterly motionless, for the last thirty minutes. He seemed to be staring at something or another, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what. Not that she had any desire to - as long as his Sharingan gave her a wide berth, she had no reason to complain.

They'd been travelling for six hours since dawn when he'd stopped, similar to the day before, to let her rest - or at least, she figured that had to be the reason; he never seemed to break a sweat himself. The morning had been spent in surprisingly comfortable silence – especially after her outburst from the night before. She had found her anger inexplicably fading to be replaced by skepticism after witnessing another illogical bout of thoughtfulness from the man.

She had woken to the sweet-smelling aroma of cooked seaweed and – confusingly – to cozy warmth. It had become apparent once she'd popped her eye open that he had indeed cooked and was in the process of twirling the seaweed with the tip of his kunai, twisting it into an elegant peak over a bed of bamboo leaves. Sure enough, she had gawked at him for the better half of a minute, before he'd finally met her eyes and the corners of his lips had turned the _tiniest_ bit before he'd placed the food in front of her. And the next minute, as she'd tried to sit up and found herself heavier than usual, she'd noted the extra cloak draped over her shoulders.

Such bafflement – well, she figured she shouldn't be surprised anymore – had effectively ceased her sour mood from the night before, and they'd spent the rest of the morning in easy silence. She found she no longer felt fury at his illogical mannerism, just pure confusion. She liked to praise herself for her ability to read into people's characters, but this man was proving to be an anomaly. Nevertheless, she now had an inkling that he didn't act the way he did because he was trying to deceive or anger her, although Sakura had yet to figure out the real reason – she wasn't ready to accept the possibility that he might just be a nice person just yet.

The previous night had certainly been strange. She still couldn't believe her nerve - she'd actually lived to tell the tale after what she'd said to him. He hadn't seemed fazed at all - even following her outrage over his mentioning Sasuke. In fact, he hadn't really said anything at all.

All that aside though, she hadn't expected his intense gaze following her words of protecting her loved ones. It had confused her greatly, to say the least, but at this point Sakura figured she was simply reading too much into things.

Sighing at the numbness of her limbs, she stood and stretched her arms over her head before stepping further into the clearing to approach the man, when suddenly something fell out of a tree only a few feet away.

A quick, startled glance identified it as a squirrel – a visibly lifeless squirrel. Before she'd taken another step, three crows barged into the clearing and shot toward the dead animal before beginning to rip at its small body with their pointy beaks.

She couldn't stop her bitter grimace. It was just as well – crows were vulgar animals, and this was just evidence to that fact.

She could feel his gaze trained on her as it often was, and she looked up to confront another unreadable expression. His intense gaze was calculating, and Sakura was suddenly struck by the paranoid sensation that he could read her mind and was fully aware of her reaction to the crows. She gave herself a mental shake and announced herself ready. Before long, they were skimming through the trees once more.

The majority of the next day was spent in silence – mostly comfortable but, at times, just plain awkward – as she grew used to their tiring routine. She frequently noticed him staring at her – not even trying to conceal the fact – as though he were attempting to solve a puzzle. There'd be the faintest tension on his forehead – another one she wouldn't have noticed if not for her familiarity with his features – and his eyes would follow her. She'd come to realize this, she supposed, because she often glanced at him also, searching for signs of a man who'd slaughtered his entire clan in cold-blood.

She'd tried asking again why they were headed to the Land of Rivers, but he'd only given her a glance in response, frustrating her endlessly.

In the evenings, she'd taken to collecting chakra for her Strength of a Hundred Seal, which had always been a part of her ongoing training. It was a technique that could take years to build, and seeing as she had little energy left for strenuous training after their runs, she'd found it a good opportunity to develop the seal she hoped to one day complete. Oddly enough, he hadn't ordered her to heal him just yet - not since their first evening together - but she was hardly complaining. Even the thought of contributing to his strength was enough to make her nauseous.

It was nearly time for their usual mid-day break when she sensed it: a faint but decent amount of chakra swiftly moving in their direction. She glanced at the man running beside her; the slight tension to his jaw was indication enough of his awareness of the situation – and that he'd likely known for some time.

Sakura was aware that the chances of the intruders being allies – well, allies of hers – were close to none, especially since it appeared to be a large group of ninja and they were a long way away from Suna and Konoha patrols. She wondered if they could pass by undetected – or perhaps the Uchiha was acquainted with the group, although that appeared unlikely considering the tension radiating off of him in waves.

"Stay behind," he murmured lowly and suddenly vanished.

Under normal circumstances, Sakura would no doubt be outraged if such words were spoken to her. Good thing then that she had absolutely no desire to fight alongside the Uchiha unless she was ensuring her own survival. In fact, perhaps these shinobi could do the honors of killing her captor for her, however unlikely.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind; if he was distracted during the battle, maybe she could find the opening she'd need to finish him off...

She faltered. Her options were limited: kill him and bear Sasuke's hatred for the rest of her life, disable him enough to flee and risk an attack on Naruto, or simply pray that, with some luck, he be defeated in battle.

She picked up her pace in the direction of the enemy, still undecided over her course of action. His heavy chakra, blazing among the rest, was moving at lightning speed toward an undisclosed location. In the next moment, she detected the rest of the chakra signatures turn to trail him; he was leading them further away.

Cloaking her presence and pumping chakra to her feet, she pushed to a sprint and dashed after them. He stopped a ways ahead as the group slowly closed in. She caught up to them within minutes and jolted to a crouch on a bordering branch, fighting to catch her breath as she peered through the foliage.

He stood, dauntingly fearsome, in the middle of a large clearing.

He also happened to be encircled by sixteen Kiri-nin. Yeah, definitely no allies of hers.

She found her gaze inexplicably drawn back to the dark, formidable man in the centre, who was currently hiding his most lethal weapon behind closed eyes. His head was bowed and partially concealed by the high-collar of his cloak. The shorter bangs framing his face played to the gentle breeze, brushing softly across his cheeks as his ponytail flailed along.

He was the picture of a dangerous, beautiful mystery in that moment, and Sakura couldn't have stopped the sudden onslaught of goosebumps had she tried. Add a few red clouds to his cloak, and you'd have yourself one infamous Uchiha Itachi of the Akatsuki.

There was a long, drawn-out moment - so still and quiet that even the forest seemed to hush its tones. It ended when the Kiri-nin, tense and wary, seemed to run out of patience for the stranger who dared stand so fearlessly before them and challenge them single-handedly. They attacked.

The clearing shook with the raucous noise of battle as all sixteen shinobi charged at the man in the middle. Their sole opponent remained motionless for a split second longer, before his eyelids began a slow rise - heavily, lazily, as though his thick lashes were hindering the movement - and Sakura caught a fleeting glimpse of three tomoe spinning to a new shape. Adrenaline coursed through her system at the implication, and everything seemed to unfold in slow-motion henceforth.

They faltered, very briefly, when they recognized the lethal set of eyes they were faced against. That was all he needed.

Immediately three nin collapsed, caught in a world of whatever horrors the Uchiha had crafted. In the same instant, two more had been incapacitated, pinned by precise kunai that had found their target. What followed was the most graceful, effortless sequence of taijutsu Sakura had ever seen; it flowed out of his limbs, as seemingly natural as ripples on waves, as he swivelled and wreathed and twisted about his opponents. It could be said, Sakura noted in silent awe, that he was dancing with the elegance of his sways, seemingly not even touching them. The men tumbled to the ground left right and centre as he simultaneously dodged the lethal jutsu aimed at him from all corners.

Sakura's mind shifted to analytical mode, processing in overdrive. It was a very different style of combat, she noted; he was using their moves against them - pitching their momentum, their strength, even their strategies against them. He seemed to know their next move before they'd even made it, and he would appear wherever his opponent was planning on being two moves later.

 _Efficient_ came to mind. So did _low-energy_. Every move was accounted for, and Sakura decided that this man was a master of conserving energy. He had a purely defensive style in combat, never going on the offensive but merely reacting and even preventing his opponent's moves instead. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen before, and for the first time, she was acutely aware of her shortage of a bloodline limit that would enable her to watch closer - she supposed she was lucky enough to be able to _see_ anything at all, since some of his moves were a blur even to the trained eye.

The shinobi had to be at least B-rank and above with their level of offensive techniques. A particularly fatal jutsu charged at him, showering hundreds of water bullets in his direction. Sakura watched, mesmerized, as he spun into the air, twisted himself horizontally to dodge the oncoming masses, and hurled a chakra loaded kunai toward the missiles. The kunai seemingly absorbed the line of bullets, creating a water shield around itself and cutting across the entire barrage.

He had water affinity, Sakura realized, somewhat startled. The Kiri-nin continued the attack with their preferred Water Release techniques, and suddenly, with no less than five jutsu mid-air and closing in on him, Sakura thought perhaps this might be it.

She'd spoken - or thought - too soon.

The airborne Uchiha's fingers shaped a single hand sign, and the entire body of advancing water twisted sharply into a violent whirlpool, just before a splitting roar shook the grounds. The dragon's head emerged from the vortex, over the heads of the baffled men, but surprisingly, it was dismantled as quickly as it'd been moulded, and the mass of water crashed heavily on the Kiri-nin, breaking in harsh waves and quickly disabling over half.

Before the remaining shinobi could get their bearings, he had them neatly restrained and incapacitated with shuriken.

He landed softly on the damp ground littered by the unmoving bodies. Sakura stared for a moment longer, before a lungful of air burst free from her lips and a violent surge of adrenaline rippled through her system. She raised a hand to her heart, panting along to its sporadic rhythm. It occurred to her then that she'd been holding her breath the entire time and that it'd merely taken a minute for sixteen shinobi to fall to the ex-Konoha-nin.

She tried to come to terms with her current state of mind; Sakura was in complete awe of the man's skills. He had barely demonstrated his skill – in fact, he'd barely done anything at all – but that somehow made it more amazing. Never in her life had she witnessed such effortless, elegant, and simply _beautiful_ moves from a shinobi.

Swallowing, she let her gaze fleet over the mounds of unconscious men - and faltered.

Her eyes widened in shock.

With no amount of thinking, she lunged forward to land in the middle of the clearing, in need of a closer look, and found her suspicions to be inexplicably true.

They were all unconscious. Not a single one was dead.

And not just that - a closer inspection spoke another truth: the Kiri-nin who'd fallen to his Sharingan appeared to be in deep sleep; kunai and shuriken that'd pierced flesh had done so with painstaking accuracy, ensuring total incapacitation without the risk of death; and it seemed that the men who'd been slammed by the body of water had merely been knocked out.

She stood rooted to the spot for a long moment, attempting to justify the evidence that pointed to a sole explanation: he had willingly kept them alive – and not just alive, but he had inflicted the least amount of harm possible.

"I asked you to stay behind," he said quietly from a ways to her left.

Her head whirled around, and she appeared in front of him before before he could even blink.

"You didn't kill them," she almost-whispered, her voice heavy with disbelief. A deep frown creased her brow as she stared up at him.

He said nothing - merely stared at her blankly as he often did. It quickly became apparent that he wouldn't be offering her an explanation.

Sakura's fists clenched at her sides. "Why didn't you kill them?!" she demanded, rage surging over shock. This time, his eyes narrowed very slightly in response.

"You're a murderer. You're Akatsuki! I've seen them kill for pleasure! And—and…" Her voice trailed off as she searched his now-onyx eyes for answers. Her own flashed with anger, and she added accusingly, "You didn't even hurt them."

His head tilted down a tiny bit, and his eyes flickered swiftly from side to side, once. Why was he staring at her like that? Why did he seem...uncomfortable? And perhaps a little self-conscious? She let out a growl of frustration, and before she knew it, she'd thrown all caution to the wind.

She attacked him.

Her chakra-laden fist whipped toward his expressionless features. It was a sloppy move driven purely by rage, she was forced to admit, and he leapt back easily. His move to distance himself instead of fighting back had another flare of fury scorch her senses, and she lunged again. Despite her level of distress, the flexing of her dormant muscles was welcome, and its familiarity eased her nerves enough to let her focus.

Leaping into the air, she twisted for momentum and dived fist-first; as expected, he made to spring back, and just as his feet left the ground, an earth clone erupted from the soil and yanked at his ankle. Unfortunately, his speed didn't allow for a firm grip, and he tugged himself free with a sharp backward twist. Her knuckles grazed his cloak in his mid-air trajectory, before an astounding crash shook the forest when her fist struck the earth.

Her mind didn't dwell on his widened eyes nor their swift switch from onyx to crimson; instead, she followed through her momentum, finding purchase on the splitting earth beneath her fingertips, and whipped her opposite leg up and over toward where he'd be landing. Her heel smashed against the cracked terrain, and he slid his torso sideways to evade the flying debris as Sakura had hoped he would.

She twisted over her palms, flung herself into the air, and formed a single hand sign. The ground shook as a wall erupted beside him, forcing him to switch course and give Sakura another opening. Her fists flew forward once again, and he veered, sidestepped and maneuvered around her deadly hands as though he was performing a long-memorized sequence.

Their taijutsu dance continued for some time, with her earth-style walls bursting in increments to limit his movements. He moved and swivelled effortlessly - her limbs met empty air every single time. Never once did he switch to offence, but merely continued to _react_. It was beyond frustrating. And demoralizing.

She conjured up one final strategy from her fast-depleting resolve and dived for him from the sky. Five consecutive clones made to reach for him - one from underground and the others from all sides - as a six-foot, enclosed wall erupted from the ruined terrain to entrap him. There was a brief, fleeting moment when Sakura thought maybe, just maybe she had him this time...

In the next moment, he had simply vanished, and Sakura crashed hard into the ground, carving a formidable crater with her force of impact.

She remained kneeling for some time. Her erratic pants fluttered the unruly bangs of her hair and washed over her skin, spreading her light flush of exertion. Finally, she lifted one of her knees off the webbed terrain and slowly pushed to her feet. Her calm, darkened gaze was the last to rise and slowly scoured the dusty grounds for her opponent. She spotted him across the clearing, beyond the crumbled bits of an earth clone.

As usual, his crimson gaze was the first to draw her attention. He stood watching her carefully, somewhat curiously, as if waiting to see what she'd do next.

Sakura closed her eyes and slowly inhaled, breaking her series of pants. A sense of calm washed over her; she could distinctly feel a combination of endorphins and adrenaline working to release the pent-up stress that'd been building in her system over the last few weeks, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so light.

Her eyes fluttered open and she sighed softly. It was over; she wasn't foolish enough to think that she might stand a chance against him. Mentally, though, she was grateful for having followed her instincts and attacked - it'd only been a matter of time before she cracked, anyway.

She met his gaze with steady eyes and noted for the first time how he didn't have a single hair out of place - except for some mud on his cloak, which she delightedly realized was her doing. The knowledge that she'd inflicted some damage - however small - to his otherwise perfect demeanour brought inexplicable joy to Sakura, and she made her way over to him with an almost-skip in her step.

He seemed to sense that she was no longer interested in fighting and began his own stroll in her direction. They met in the middle of the clearing littered by upturned rocks and unmoving bodies. Whatever he saw on her features made him sigh softly.

"I asked you to stay behind," he repeated.

She returned his steady gaze and decided to take a page out of his book; a pink eyebrow rose in disdain. "And I ignored you," she said with a quick shrug of her shoulders.

A flicker of an emotion she couldn't place flashed across his eyes before amusement flittered through.

"It is unwise to needlessly put yourself in danger," he said in his soft lilt before giving a small tip of his head, beckoning her to follow. He seemed to not be expecting a response.

They made it back into the cocoon of trees shortly after. Once her senses had settled into the familiar blur of greenery, Sakura found her mind replaying the events of the last half hour.

He'd chosen to keep the Kiri-nin alive. He'd inflicted minimal damage - knowingly. It'd be near impossible for all those weapons to have _not_ killed those shinobi by chance alone. And this was _Uchiha Itachi_ \- he didn't miss.

So then what?

Was it some skewed form of arrogance? Perhaps a narcissistic tendency? Some fluke to 'never let it be said that Uchiha Itachi can't overpower a sixteen-nin platoon'? And then have as many witnesses to spread the word? No, that didn't seem likely. Plus, the man hardly needed further boosts to his notorious reputation.

Maybe the Akatsuki were allies of Kiri... But it couldn't be. The Akatsuki comprised missing-nin from across the five great nations and were known to have no peaceful relations with any village.

She peered at the man running beside her. Or maybe he'd suffered a blow to the head, which had resulted in a drastic change in his behaviour. Since the chances of him being trapped under a genjutsu were close to nil, this option seemed the most plausible so far.

Sakura flinched at her pitiful attempts at rationalization. Perhaps... Perhaps _she_ was the problem. Perhaps she'd suffered more damage in Tobi's captivity than she realized. If that was true, she couldn't hope to diagnose herself - not with accuracy, anyway. Was her perception skewed? Had her brain suffered irreversible damage? She'd been so sure that she'd healed herself sufficiently. Maybe Sakura only _thought_ she was fine, but really she was not.

She could find no other explanation, and the more she considered this possibility, the more it made sense to Sakura. So, she began racking her brain for a method that would help validate her suspicions.

Hours passed and the sun descended in the horizon as Sakura continued her mental efforts to – for lack of a better term – check if she'd truly gone mad. By the end, she was at her wits' end. No doubt she was slowly driving herself crazy, even if she hadn't been to begin with.

A newfound hatred flared within her. That...

She glanced at him again.

That monster. He was making her doubt herself. Her shishou always demanded - _commanded_ \- that she trust in her abilities; she had no room for second-guessing when she held a dying life in her hands. And currently, Sakura was defying that very important rule.

Tears stung her eyes before she could get a hold of her feelings. She swallowed hard, refusing to let them fall. She'd promised she wouldn't cry. It didn't matter that she couldn't figure him out - she didn't have to. She just had to _survive_ and, by doing so, ensure that he stayed away from Naruto. And in the meantime, she would simply have to learn to accept the bizarre nature of his behaviour instead of questioning it.

A crow soared through the trees above, crooning a low tune, and he darted the bird a quick glance. Within seconds, a raindrop fell on Sakura's forehead, quickly followed by a second and third. She looked up at the single grey cloud gliding across the otherwise clear sunset and glared at it. It had appeared in a matter of minutes.

She followed him to the underbrush and then to the shelter of a broad oak just as the heavens opened and let loose. They would have both gotten completely drenched had it not been for their waterproof cloaks. Sakura let out a groan of dismay as she gathered and wrung her hair, cursing Kami and every other higher power for their inability to control the weather.

A murder of no less than ten crows dived from the skies and landed in the small, open clearing by the tree. They bounded across the murky puddles, flapping their wings and cawing to their heart's content. Sakura blinked, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips when she realized they were only playing, seemingly having the time of their lives under the heavy rain.

One by one, the crows' heads started tilting in their direction, and they began bounding closer to the oak.

What happened next happened very fast.

All too suddenly, the entire murder took flight, careering toward them so fast that Sakura barely had time to shield her face. Wild wing flapping was accompanied by purposeful screeches that had her ears ringing, and her hair flailed and whipped around with the force of their thrashing.

Then, as abruptly as it'd begun, it was over. The crows dispersed as one, and Sakura cautiously lifted her face from the shield of her arms. She glanced at the man beside her, expecting some sort of explanation - and froze.

His face. His hair. His cloak, and every other part of him exposed, was completely covered in mud. The murky water ran down his hairline and over his face to fall from his chin in rivulets, leaving behind trails of varying color - though all in a spectrum of browns and greys. Sakura gaped at him.

She was very mildly aware of the fact that she likely looked no better, but in that moment, she couldn't care less.

In the end, it was his expression that did it.

She burst into laughter.

His face was priceless; rounded eyes, dropped open mouth, slacked expression - he looked like he'd been slapped. The mental image of anyone slapping Uchiha Itachi brought on another round of hysterics, and Sakura vaguely realized that she was laughing and _pointing_ at him.

Sakura poured her heart and soul into that laugh; her sorrows, her frustration, her _anger -_ they all bubbled up inside of her until they were bursting at the seams, literally. She laughed at her pitiful state - apprentice to the strongest kunoichi in the world and kidnapped without so much as a struggle. She laughed at her unlikely captor - a man who just happened to have haunted her nightmares more than any other, who she wanted _dead_ more than any other. She laughed at the irony that it was _her_ with him and not Sasuke, for he would surely kill to be in her shoes. And she laughed for all her loved ones back home, who were no doubt worried sick about her.

But more than anything, she laughed at their current state – played by a bunch of crows and muddy and drenched to prove it. She laughed until it hurt, until her gut cramped up and she doubled over, clenching her sides.

When she'd collected herself long enough to chance another look at him, her laughs diminished to chuckles at the sight of his expression. He was amused, that was for sure, but he also had a smile on his lips - not the kind, polite, and undoubtedly beautiful smile he'd donned previously, but a full, happy smile that crinkled his eyes at the corners. He had it on the whole time he watched her descend from her episode.

Dare she think it - Sakura hadn't thought he could look even more beautiful.

In the end, they stood staring amusedly at one another, until Sakura turned her gaze to the skies to watch the last raindrops fall. The small grey cloud glided away, taking with it the last traces of her laughter and - Sakura couldn't help but feel - her tiny window of happiness.

* * *

The sight of their village gates brought none of the usual warmth to his chest. He recalled this exact moment all too well: returning home without one of his teammates and readying himself to be the bearer of bad news.

They leapt onto the clear patch of road leading to the village. He glanced up at the looming green gates - and picked out the lone figure in the distance. Naruto recognized her immediately, and somehow, he knew she was waiting for them.

They didn't stop running until they reached her, and Naruto absorbed her grim features under the last colors of sunset.

"Shizune-san," Kakashi greeted the young woman.

She nodded at him before turning to the entire group. "Hokage-sama has requested the presence of Team Kakashi. Immediately."

Silence ensued as they parted ways with Team 8, and Kakashi, Naruto, Sai and Yamato followed Shizune to the Hokage Tower.

It was right as they reached the red building that Naruto spotted a most familiar pair perched outside one of the windows. He blinked in surprise and raced ahead to land beside the larger of the two.

"Toad boss? Gamakichi? What are you doing here?"

The two exchanged a look. "You better go see her, Naruto."

Now beyond puzzled, he followed their small group up the stairs, forcibly readying himself to face Tsunade without her precious student. His steps felt heavy, and fresh tears threatened to spill from his eyes, even though he'd thought they'd run out. The severity of the situation was crushing him all over again, the reality of his teammate's absence all the more apparent now that they were home. As the last person to enter, he closed the door to the Hokage's office with a quiet click before turning to face the room. Immediately he found the Godaime's eyes lock on his.

He was vaguely aware of Shizune taking position behind the desk, but Naruto's undivided attention was fixed on the Hokage's features; she looked visibly older since the last time he'd seen her, and he found his throat constrict when he took note of the lifeless depths of her eyes.

Naruto swallowed hard. He took a step forward and opened his mouth to apologize for returning empty-handed, when she spoke first.

"Naruto… This is Lord Fukasaku."

He faltered, noting the other occupant of the room for the first time. The small toad was perched on her desk, and its dark eyes seemed to be assessing him carefully.

"He is here to deliver you some news," Tsunade went on quietly, and Naruto watched her face fall behind hands that were familiarly propped up on her desk.

"So… You are Jiraiya-chan's student," the small toad said to him. Naruto snapped his gaze to the animal, almost recoiling in shock. Jiraiya- _chan_? Who did this tiny toad think he was, referring to Ero-sennin like that? Just as he was about to demand some respect for his teacher, the toad spoke once more.

"Jiraiya-chan has died in battle."

There was a silence that held the room for what felt like an eternity.

And then Naruto's world crumbled around him.


	5. Fan-tailed

**A/N: HELLO! Firstly, I am very sorry about the late update (my normal time frame is weekly updates). I lost most of my work when Word lagged and then shut down on me. I'm pretty sure it's because the document was nearing 50,000 words and it was just overwhelmed. I wasn't too worried (I always have autosave on) but for some reason it HADN'T saved. Anyway – you understand my struggle. If any of you have dealt with this in the past and have suggestions you'd be willing to share with me, I'd be super grateful. I'd also love to hear what you use to write your own stories, if you've found something different that works. I've decided to just start typing each chapter on a different word document from now on – just in case.**

 **I'm sure most of you have realized by now that although the story will stick to the canon timeline as much as possible, there are some tweaks (and really, there have to be, otherwise Itachi couldn't be a part of it and that's just heartbreaking). And you may remember that this arc in Naruto was very upsetting with Jiraiya's death, and he was an amazing character with a lot of influence, so I couldn't just treat it like nothing.**

 **The chapter may seem a little slow at some parts – we get a lot of insight into their thoughts, but I feel like that just has to happen. They're tough characters, so nothing is going to happen magically, and you may agree with me when I say it's hardly realistic if they connect too quickly.**

 **LASTLY, this is a much longer chapter than usual and I know that can sometimes be intimidating. I was going to cut it, but it just didn't feel right. Do you guys prefer short or long chapters? I will post according to what you prefer.**

 **Apologies for the long message!**

 **As always, have a good read!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

 _ **~ More Than Meets The Eye ~**_

A fourth glass shattered in her hand when she rashly slammed it on mahogany. She grunted in annoyance; surely glassware lacked durability these days.

Disregarding the fresh cup placed before her, she grabbed the bottle with bloody fingers and took a swig, relishing the burn as the fluid slid down her throat. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve before frowning at her bloodied hands.

"Well fuck…" she muttered.

Things were going jolly fucking great, weren't they? Really, why was she even surprised? Life had a way of screwing with her, dumping her on her ass, then lending a helping hand before spitting on her face. She couldn't even feel the pain anymore; surely it had to hurt, if her shitty mood was any indication. Then again, she felt like shit on most days, so her mood was hardly telling. Her old scars hadn't healed to begin with, and she was at a loss to handle the fresh batch.

The wooden tabletop creaked beneath her fingertips. She loosened her hold, dismissing the wary glances. They could shove their judgements where the sun didn't shine. Hokage or not, she had to refrain from wreaking havoc on the bar. She had absolutely no desire to return to her own quarters; the familiarity of the enclosed space was suffocating. Plus, she'd depleted her own reserves of sake.

She released a bone-weary sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. That idiotic pervert had given her that idiotic heroic-bullshit speech and then had gone and idiotically gotten himself killed.

Perfect.

She had half a mind to drag his sorry ass back to life just so she could kill him again with her own bare hands.

Her head dipped behind her propped hands. He'd made her bet on him… And she'd won. For the first fucking time. Fuck winning.

She took another swig, quickly depleting the contents of the bottle before gesturing for another.

Her thoughts turned to the equally idiotic apprentice of her late teammate. The boy had gone silent with the news. For the first time ever, she'd seen no fragment of emotion cross his features. It had been a concerning sight, to say the least; anyone who'd claim to know Uzumaki Naruto would attest that silent and impassive were no words to describe the boy.

He'd had the audacity to ask her, though. Had _she_ sent him? Of course she had! She was the goddamn Hokage!

She watched the liquid swirl inside her fresh bottle. Well, he'd hardly left her much of a choice on the matter when he'd announced his departure, casual as you please. But she _hadn't_ stopped him; she'd just sat there and gazed at his back as he walked out of the village gates, possibly for the last time, fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead.

Tingles of intoxication shrouded her mind, and for a passing moment, she let the blissful void consume her whole. Life wasn't even granting her sufficient time to mourn. There were more pressing matters that called for attention, like locating her missing student.

Yes, she was worried. Then again, Sakura wasn't dead, because…she couldn't be. That stubborn edge of hers - one she'd proudly helped hone - not to mention remarkable intelligence would see her deny defeat for a while yet.

A slouched back propped itself against the bar table near her elbow. An unexpected face, to be sure - or perhaps irony would have him as the perfect company for the occasion. One hand abandoned the shelter of his pocket, signalling behind him for a bottle of his own. She eyed him dispassionately, not surprised in the least that he'd yet to spare her a glance.

He didn't bother peeling aside the flimsy fabric across his lips before taking a generous sip.

"It's my fault."

She scoffed in response. Funny how strange her night was turning out to be. She'd never taken him for a man who'd openly wallow in self-pity, though no doubt regret and self-shame were two cages he frequented quite often privately.

Well, no matter. He couldn't have picked a better time for his change in habit.

"It's my fault," she echoed; different incidents they may be, but the joint admission served an odd reprieve.

She tilted her bottle and he followed suit. The soft 'clink' of glass sealed the deal, and both took to emptying their respective drinks, drowning their sorrows over teammates long gone and their missing student.

* * *

Itachi swallowed against the cough squeezing at his throat. He'd overexerted himself. Mangekyou use combined with inadequate rest had drained his body, straining the tender tissue that hadn't yet recovered. He was trembling, and his utterly drenched state was hardly helping matters.

Thankfully, the closest stream wasn't too far. He led them to a stop before distancing himself to give her some privacy. His cloak was hung to dry over a small fire as he splashed his muddy face with handfuls of cool water. Streams of chakra flowed from his scalp to help rinse the worst of the dirt from his hair while he knelt, hand on chest, and tried to regulate his breathing. By the time he returned to the kunoichi's side, she'd already finished drying herself.

They settled a short ways from the water, shielded from the nightly breeze by a cloak of trees. Itachi attended to dinner as per usual, perching their catch neatly over the fire. He sat close to the flames, relishing the warmth that seeped into his skin.

"Why?" she murmured, breaking the comfortable silence for the first time since their oddly humorous incident. Her gaze was lost in the flames, and he waited patiently for her to elaborate.

"The meals…" she added quietly, still not looking at him.

He tried to decipher what it was she was asking him. Why he cooked for her?

A distant memory prodded the edges of his mind...

Or perhaps she was asking why they shared meals across the fire, as comrades often did.

Following her cue, he trained his eyes on the source of warmth, admiring the graceful yet thick contours of the painfully familiar flames. _He_ had always shaped them this way and had one day mindlessly demonstrated to Itachi the minor twist he'd have to incorporate in his Katon for the needless yet beautiful effect. Itachi had only been a genin at the time, and he was positive that his friend hadn't had the faintest idea that such a simple trick would remain with Itachi for years to come, serving as one of his few sources of comfort - and of light - on otherwise endless nights.

 _"_ _What's the campfire for?" an eight-year-old Itachi asked, glancing across the fire at his friend, who sat decked out in his complete ANBU uniform sans the mask._

 _Shisui smiled. "_ _It's nice to share a meal with someone you feel at ease with," he said, reaching across the flames for one of the fish. "Enjoying a hot meal helps you cheer up, so eat it while it's hot!"_

He blinked at the fond memory, letting a wistful smile fleet across his lips. Indeed, sharing a meal with an easy companion was certainly pleasant – and a privilege Itachi hadn't been granted in many years.

The direction of his thoughts made him falter.

Did he feel…at ease with _her_?

He darted her a glance over the flames. It was understandable, he supposed. Ever since he'd left his village at age thirteen, his most consequential interactions had involved nothing but unwavering, deceitful acting - even with Kisame. Despite their established partnership and mutual acceptance - and even tentative friendship - Itachi had been unable to fully lower his guard around the shark-man.

Now however, although his current companion thought of him as a murderer, there was no pressure for Itachi to act around her. He hadn't been granted such… _comfort_ in the presence of another in eight years – perhaps longer so, if he considered the godforsaken period he'd spent spying on his clan.

Their earlier exchange seeped into his mind, soothing the tense lines of his forehead. The sincerity of her laughter, so unrestrained and carefree, had warmed his insides. It was a weightless sensation he felt only rarely. Despite the painful chaos of her preceding weeks, she was finding moments of lighthearted joy – regardless of the questionable sources of her amusement. That alone was enough to prove the untiring resolve she possessed, and Itachi was left with a newfound respect for the kunoichi.

Such behavior didn't come easy to most shinobi, and he was no different; he'd spent his life struggling with emotions, unable to express himself in ways he wanted to - a trait that _should_ have come naturally but unfortunately didn't, not to him. Perhaps it was a fault of his upbringing, or a result of the front he'd been putting on for years, which he'd crafted so delicately that at times it felt as though his truth and lies were mirror images. Either way, Itachi knew better than to dismiss such a seemingly basic trait as easy. As far as he was concerned, it deserved praise, reverence, and perhaps even envy. Laughter was especially trivialized in their world – a world driven by war and power. So Itachi had had no qualms about responding to her outburst with a smile, silently encouraging the gesture that had left him in awe.

It was understandable that he'd found comfort in the presence of her expressive character, he assured himself. And although acknowledging his ease was simple enough, Itachi struggled to render an appropriate response for his admission. Should he feel relieved? Happy? Indifferent? He couldn't sort through his emotions.

He glanced at her. She appeared to no longer be expecting an answer. Her question wasn't entirely unfounded, he decided. Even during assigned missions, it was common for shinobi to sustain themselves using soldier pills – even for extended periods.

But what to say to her?

He couldn't voice his thoughts for obvious reasons, but he supposed his value for decency was no secret. They were travelling together, and considering the circumstances, he hoped to diffuse her discomfort as much as possible. Any unnecessary ill-willed exchanges were best kept to a minimum, and he knew from experience that a warm meal went a long way during times of difficulty.

"I believe it would be best to limit your unease," he said quietly.

Her eyes fluttered in a startled blink before meeting his in a gaze so intense that he found himself entranced by the honest emotions swimming behind emeralds. He saw confusion and acceptance, pleasantly surprised to find no traces of anger or disdain.

Just as she made to speak, a soft croon chimed in, drawing their attention to the four crows gliding to their level. He turned to the bird hovering inches from him, acknowledging its silent request by raising his hand. Its talons hooked on his index finger and the animal gave another caw, seemingly satisfied.

He was vaguely aware of her gaze – dazed, wary and fixed on the bird. Itachi stared into its beady obsidian eyes, recalling the girl's reaction from when the crows had torn into a squirrel. Her distaste didn't come unexpected. Crows were hardly amiable animals; they were tolerated and avoided at best, and it was no surprise that she didn't appear overly fond of them.

"They're misunderstood creatures," he imparted softly, offering the clarification she sought in her searching eyes. His fingertips grazed the underside of its beak, following an invisible trail to the top of its wing. The crow's hums pulsed like a cat's purr.

She leaned forward slowly, head tilting for a better angle. Emeralds darkened as her gaze switched from wary to analytic, and she started examining the animal as though it were the keeper of all secrets. "Misunderstood how?"

Intrigued by her earnest interest, Itachi thought on his answer. "In ways most wouldn't expect, considering their ill repute," he replied, surreptitiously gauging her reaction as his fingers continued their idle caress. "They're quite…loyal and affectionate if they choose to be."

And suddenly, Itachi found himself at the trajectory of that intense gaze. She looked at him as though seeing him for the very first time, before beginning to stare in earnest with overly-analytic eyes. Immediately he tensed at being the subject of her fervent scrutiny, and his eyes narrowed with the realization that her minor gesture had caused him such discomfort. Why was she studying him like that? What had he said? Surely, she hadn't misunderstood?

Thankfully, she was snapped out of it with the crow's abrupt departure, and he saw the train of thought shrink and disappear behind her hazy eyes. A subtle, pink hue rose to her cheeks.

Itachi stared, paying no heed to her fidgeting under his blatant gaze. She shifted to settle into position, closing her eyes to concentrate, and finally he found himself returning to his senses, blinking away his Sharingan.

His lips tilted up at the corner. He'd come to terms with his desire to discern her emotions – the complex swarm she displayed so readily. But with each passing day, there was a new layer, a new expression, a distantly familiar…color, added to the rest. She'd seemed so predictable at first glance; her feelings had been clean, sharp, detectable – fear, anger, frustration. Now, days afterwards, the maze had grown more intricate, the patterns less discernible, and he'd become all the more intrigued.

Itachi wasn't frustrated. He'd never fostered ill sentiments over things he couldn't understand. Anger coupled with impatience formed the epitome of men's demise, giving way to unhindered ignorance. It was dangerous, yet easily vanquished using logic. He'd trained himself to not feed into such novice ploys of the human mind from a young age. Now, the unknown drew him in. The notion that he was unable to read her – to understand her – simply made him all the more willing to try, to observe, and to learn as much as he could.

He chanced one last glance at her, wondering, for the umpteenth time, at the circumstances that'd brought them both here.

* * *

The familiar weight settled between her brows. Prickles along her body intensified as her chakra bubbled and began to inch upward. Her pull had improved drastically over the fifteen months she'd been collecting her chakra, and absorbing a single load took considerably less time than it once had.

A rosy glow lapped at her closed eyelids, disrupting her focus. She opened her eyes to squint at the rays of a setting sun, flinching when they pierced her eyes at an odd angle. They'd stopped for the night far earlier than usual, and Sakura was more than eager to put her excess energy into training.

She shifted, draping shadows over her eyes, just as her companion descended from the canopy to settle across from her. With his arrival, Sakura found herself re-immersed in a serene aura that was yet to be disturbed since their peculiar laughing fit from the day before.

Just as she'd regained her focus, a loud caw ruptured the quiet. The bird dived from the skies and dropped an object above her. Startled, she reached out on reflex to catch the item - a short strip of branch - and turned to the man in puzzlement. He regarded her intently with an unreadable expression.

She inspected the branch, noting the line of small red fruit that dotted its leaves. Her brow quirked.

Cranberries?

She shot another questioning look at her companion, whose eyes now glinted in amusement.

"They're returning the favor," he explained. The blank look on her face urged him to elaborate. "You shared your food with them, and they're doing the same."

Sakura frowned. "But I never shared…" Her gaze bore into his. He raised a single knowing brow.

Her frown deepened. "You…? But I only offered it to you," she countered defensively, skeptical. She remembered the incident from the other day; she'd picked some fruit from the edge of a pond when they'd stopped to rest and had grudgingly offered him some, meaning to balance her debt after he'd paid and cooked for her. She'd been warier of him back then, bitter and brimming with anger, and realized how quickly her impression of him had changed. Had it really only been a few days?

He hesitated briefly. "It makes no difference to them."

Realization dawned, and Sakura blinked. "They see you as one of them," she said, tone dubious enough to require an affirmation.

"Yes."

She stared disbelievingly at the branch in her hands, mind cluttered with thoughts of the unappealing animal. She knew they fought alongside him – she'd thought it a very fitting match when she'd faced him with her team. But this sort of behaviour – so simple yet somehow meaningful – spoke a little louder about the crow's nature.

She absently plucked a juicy fruit and popped it into her mouth. Maybe she'd misjudged the animal, like she seemed to have done with the Uchiha.

 _"_ _They're quite...loyal and affectionate if they choose to be."_

Sakura faltered, her mouth pausing mid-chew, as she recalled his earlier words. She hadn't been able to shake the feeling that his description carried a connotation he may not have intended. Or maybe he had, but in that subtle, enigmatic way of his.

His words had sounded almost…fitting for _him_. Not that she'd witnessed his loyalty or affection per se, but the mere notion of depicting a crow as such was as far-fetched as Naruto hating ramen or Sasuke deciding to cede his revenge...or Uchiha Itachi being a kind, considerate man.

She twirled the branch in her hand. Despite the odd description, maybe there was some truth to his words. Maybe crows _were_ indeed loyal and affectionate – _if they chose to be_. And now, he claimed that the crows accepted him as one of their own.

Surely irony lurked in there somewhere. Maybe... Maybe he and the crows were quite alike...

A low croon drew her out of her rumination. Lowering the fruit she'd raised to her mouth, Sakura turned to the sound and spotted the crow perched on the lowest branch of a tree only steps away. Curiosity won out, and she rose to her feet to approach the bird at eye level.

Despite her wary front the night before, she'd found it fascinating when the animal had settled so comfortably on the Uchiha's finger. She'd naturally never seen one up close – likely due to their tendency to keep a safe distance from people – and had been unable to mask her inherently inquisitive side as she'd observed the animal.

She had another look at the crow under the piercing rays of a setting sun. It kept completely still, slightly angled sideways, and stared back just as intently with a too-intelligent, beady eye. It was an oddly glossy eye, and when she stopped a mere two feet away, she saw the image of her dark silhouette mirrored at its depths. The beak was long and broad, not exactly elegant but sturdy, and as black as the rest of its form, but with a smoother texture that gave it a lighter shade. The rest of the crow was cloaked in a jet-black, velvety coat that glistened appealingly under the sunlight. Its feathers fell in smooth layers down its back, and the mane was so alluring up close that she had the sudden urge to see if it felt as silky as it looked.

Although the crow emitted a repelling, almost dangerous aura from afar, there were no traces of such attributes up close. It merely had an enigmatic quality that she now often associated with the Uchiha.

The bird suddenly shifted, slowly turning further as if to display itself fully. Its head remained cocked in her direction, with the beady eye still fixed on her. Sakura found her gaze drawn to the tail now in her line of sight, and immediately she faltered.

That shape.

She leaned in for a closer look. The crow's broad tail, extending outward in strips of black feathers, had the perfect shape of a fan.

There it was - another irony.

Frowning, she took a quick peek at the man behind her. Surely, he'd noticed?

She gave a feeble shake of her head. What a coincidence – an unfortunate one at that. She wondered whether it'd ever bothered him that his apparently loyal companions sported the same symbol that represented his late clan. The clan he obviously despised.

Sakura pondered his opinion on the irony of it all. She considered asking him and mused over his likely response.

 _It is unwise to dwell on such trivial matters, Haruno-san._

 _A coincidence is but an inconsequential result of probability, Haruno-san._

Haruno-san this, Haruno-san that. She huffed. It was unlikely she'd receive a satisfying answer.

She took a step back from the animal, blinking in surprise when it fluttered its wings and turned away from her. It was then that she realized she'd been under the same level of scrutiny by the crow as it had been by her.

How bizarre.

She'd just resettled to continue her training when he spoke up, and his words destroyed all chances of her regaining her focus.

"You may heal me after we've eaten."

A tremor descended Sakura's spine. The polite tinge in his tone did nothing to stop the dread that pooled in her stomach. She was still less than comfortable with the idea of contributing to a criminal's strength – regardless of their seemingly considerate and contradictory ways. The thought alone made her lightheaded.

With her erratic pulse ringing in her ears, she was only vaguely aware of him pulling out his book and starting to read. All too soon, he was passing her a twig lined with roasted plums, all neatly sliced to equal proportions and garnished with shisho leaves. She gathered herself some walnuts from the fire before beginning to eat impulsively, not quite tasting her bites.

The sole reason she found herself able to stand and approach the man was due to her stubborn nature's demands that she unravel the irrational mystery that was Uchiha Itachi. Some chakra induced examining could very well provide her with answers.

She paused a short distance from him, suddenly unsure of how to best initiate the session. His entirely relaxed posture and penetrating gaze hardly helped her dilemma, serving only to run her mouth dry and turn her into an anxious bundle of nerves. She dragged her feet onward and finally managed to lower herself beside his extended leg.

He was close enough to touch.

His proximity was making her dizzy. Uncertainty, fear, loathing and curiosity all mingled in her mind as she stared unblinkingly into his dark orbs, feeling very much like a daring prey or a moth drawn to a flame. He was infinitely more alluring up close.

Appalled by the direction of her thoughts, she mentally shook her head and pulled herself back to the task at hand.

Should she just reach over and touch him? Her heart pounded harder against her ribcage when she realized she'd never actually touched him before – aside from his unconsented healing.

Just as she was growing utterly uncomfortable, he jerked her out of her thoughts.

"I'm afraid I must ensure that you do not kill me during these sessions Haruno-san, given your expertise and the nature of your abilities," he imparted tonelessly. Sakura jolted slightly, taken aback.

She hadn't even considered killing him.

It was a troubling realization. Yes, she'd dismissed this alternative, having decided to save that privilege for Sasuke, but it was still bothersome that the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. Had her anger truly succumbed to her illogically nosy side? Had her wariness really given in to her curiosity so much so that she favoured unravelling him instead of harming him?

She stared at him with unseeing eyes. Seemingly misjudging the source of her hesitancy, he elaborated further. "My intended use for you will hopefully serve as assurance that I will not harm you, although you can understand why I may be more cautious in trusting you."

Her lips pressed together into a thin line. "I understand why you'd be cautious," she said cagily, "but I have no intention of killing you."

He merely stared back dispassionately in response.

Sakura shifted uneasily. "As much as I'd like to eliminate the threat against my teammate, I believe someone else deserves that right." She suddenly found herself unable to meet his eyes.

Her words echoed back to her in the strained silence that followed, and Sakura was struck with the realization that she wouldn't have dared say such a thing to him only days before.

"Such loyalty…" he murmured, seemingly musing to himself, before fixing her with the same searching gaze he often wore when looking at her – only with added intensity. Surprisingly, instead of flinching under his scrutiny, she merely stared back with cautious eyes of her own.

"Why?" There was an edge to his question – a need to know. "Why are you so loyal to my brother?"

She blinked, taken aback by the fervor behind the question. Once again he'd brought up Sasuke, but her resulting anger was quickly quenched by her need to make sense of his interest on the matter. She frowned, equal parts frustrated and confused. "He was my teammate. I told you I—"

"Protect the people you consider family," he cut in, reiterating her exact words from days ago. "And you consider him family." A question and a statement in one.

"Yes," she asserted, throwing him a pointed look. "Someone has to."

His head tilted slightly to the side, eyes glinting purposefully. "Someone has to? It's a favor done out of pity then, I take it."

"Of course not," she gritted out, growing increasingly more frustrated with this conversation. "I'm not doing him a favour. He's my teammate and I'll always care for him."

"He _was_ your teammate. I was under the impression that he'd abandoned you."

Sakura visibly flinched. His soft timbre did nothing to conceal the harsh truth behind his words. He watched her with tight lips, looking as though he'd intended to draw this reaction but was unhappy with the outcome.

She swallowed to steady her voice, blinking rapidly. He couldn't hurt her – he didn't matter enough to hurt her - but tears of frustration could still betray her. "And whose fault is that?" she ground out, shooting him a scathing look. "Besides, my loyalties are none of your concern." She was proud of the strength in her voice.

His intrusive features softened, and he was silent for a time.

"Indeed," he acquiesced at last, his eyelids drooping slightly. "I apologize for being out of line. I was trying to understand."

She searched his face, sensing his sincerity despite the unreadable tone and features. His quick remorse defused her anger, granting leeway for her curiosity to regain its foothold. After all, 'trying to understand' was a notion she was becoming increasingly familiar with.

"You couldn't possibly understand," she murmured, bitter sadness seeping into her tone – not sadness for him, but for the pain he'd caused Sasuke with his inability to understand.

He said nothing, but offered her a smile – not particularly carefree, but genuine all the same – that made her feel like a child.

"Let's get this over with," she muttered, uneasy under that smile.

He nodded. "I will place you under a genjutsu. It will merely prevent harmful advances on your part, nothing more." He paused, then frowned. "I'm afraid I can't afford to die just yet."

Was he trying to be funny? "Fine," she grouched. "Not like I have much of a choice anyway."

Nerves had her shifting uneasily on her knees. She swallowed hard, trying to remember that he'd defied all her expectations - or lack thereof - so far. She kept Naruto in the forefront of her mind as onyx bleed into crimson. A blink later, the red had already drained away. A pink brow rose in question.

"It's done."

She blinked incredulously. "That's it?"

"Yes." He tipped his head to the side, and loose strands of ebony hair grazed his cheek as his half-smirk-half-smile fleeted across his lips. "I hope I didn't disappoint you."

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She cleared her throat, struggling to meet his eyes. Her reaction seemed to amuse him further, as his smile widened, earning him a frustrated huff. Having battled through countless genjutsu, both during her training and out, she knew that a single second was all it took - and, in the case of the Sharingan, a single look; though, perhaps she'd subconsciously expected something... _more_ from _his_ genjutsu. _The_ Uchiha Itachi of the Sharingan, master of genjutsu. Her surprise wasn't exactly unfounded – her sensei had been bedridden for days after the Uchiha's Tsukuyomi.

"Whatever," she mumbled before shuffling closer, reaching for his face.

Both simultaneously tensed, and his smile disappeared without a trace. Sakura stopped breathing, utterly frozen with her hands hovering inches from his face. When he remained still, she braved the small distance and let her fingertips graze his temples. Immediately his Sharingan blazed to life, and Sakura jerked away with a silent gasp. Crimson held widened emerald for a moment, before his dark orbs returned and she exhaled shakily, finally pressing her fingers fully to his temples.

His skin felt cool to the touch, likely due to her own overheated extremities. Nerves had her breaths gushing out in uneven staccatos, and it felt like a rock had settled into the pits of her stomach. She could feel him watching her, that intense gaze, devoid of all emotion, intently fixed on her features. Pounding heart, dry mouth, quivering limbs – her entire body was on edge, agitated by his proximity, and yet her instincts no longer had the overwhelming urge to escape.

She closed her eyes to evade his distracting gaze. In the next instant, she was Haruno Sakura, distinguished medic-nin, and he was just another patient.

She'd planned on inspecting his eyes to locate sources of tension - she was fairly familiar with the workings of the Sharingan courtesy of Kakashi, though she'd never examined the kekkei genkai on a rightful owner - an Uchiha - before - but her attention was quickly diverted when her chakra dispersed to probe the rest of his body, as though it had a mind of its own.

Frowning, she followed her chakra instincts; sure enough, the dormant memories from her genjutsu-induced healing resurfaced. Sakura delved into the distantly familiar tissue, perusing the critical damage she'd worked tirelessly to fix, and faltered when her chakra reached his lungs. Holding her breath, she examined the tender pathways and traces of recently built tension.

A firm grip on her wrist wrenched her back to reality. Her eyes snapped open to vivid crimson on a cold mask of indifference, and she froze.

"My eyes only, Haruno-san," he murmured; despite his mannerly tone, his underlying displeasure was unmistakable.

Several things occurred to her in that moment; Sakura realized, with sudden clarity, that he didn't want her knowing. That he probably didn't want _anyone_ knowing, and that she'd already seen too much for his liking.

Both remained frozen. Her skin was either scorching hot or chilled to the bone beneath his fingers - it was hard to tell with her frayed nerves having short-circuited under his gaze, his touch, his body heat. She could only feebly nod and close her eyes as his hand slowly slid off her wrist.

She inhaled a trembling breath, then released. "Activate your Sharingan and close your eyes." Her voice was no more than a whisper in the strained silence.

She delved straight into his eyes this time, and all extraneous distractions quickly became overshadowed by the fascinating intricacy of his pathways. The elaborate maze was as different from Kakashi's as it was similar; the overall arrangement would easily identify both as the Sharingan, but that was the extent of their resemblance. She tried visualizing Kakashi's, attempting to recall what it'd been like, but all she could definitively fathom was that her sensei's had been nothing like the pair that belonged to Uchiha Itachi.

In addition to the distinctive network surrounding the Uchiha's eyes, his Sharingan itself held a unique stream of chakra – chakra that undoubtedly belonged to the man before her. His chakra and the Sharingan were molded in a way she couldn't quite explain. It _felt_ like him – similar to the way one's chakra resembled their owner, but even more so. She hadn't known about the Sharingan's tendency to mold itself according to the qualities of its possessor, but now that she'd analyzed two distinct pairs, it was exceptionally apparent. She wondered whether it was this meticulous trait that brought on the differing abilities of each yielder's Sharingan, which she'd once discussed with Kakashi.

Her sensei's words came to mind; he'd explained that he suspected every Sharingan to be different, and that these differences would likely become more evident the further a Sharingan advanced. She'd never asked him how he knew so much about it, but it seemed that his speculations had merit.

The chakra swirling behind Uchiha Itachi's orbs was serene yet strong, like the forceful pull of an undercurrent in placid waters. It had the same strangely tranquil aura he'd sometimes emit, along with an array of other qualities too overwhelming for her to interpret. She was surprised to note that the volume of chakra in his eyes was not very large – definitely less than Kakashi's.

With a tentative sigh, she focused on her task, easily locating the minor strains on the tender tissue she'd recently mended. Evidence of their vigorous healing was still present, and as her chakra coursed through, Sakura resisted the urge to falter.

He'd practically been blind before she'd healed him.

Pushing the thought aside, she fixed the fresh damage within a matter of minutes, then pulled her hands back, eagerly moving away from him.

"Your headaches will continue unless you stop using your Sharingan altogether," she told him coolly as she stood. She made to take a step back to her own side of the clearing, but faltered. "Also…" She trained her gaze on the ground by his feet. "You shouldn't repress the pressure in your lungs. It'll only make it worse."

With that, she headed back to her seat and settled down, scooting closer to the fire in the absence of another's body heat.

"Thank you."

She nodded at the flames, no longer fazed by his decorum. He gave no further acknowledgement of her words, and silence ensued as she considered her latest revelations. Her brief examination had uncovered an inconceivable truth.

"That's how Sasuke almost killed you, isn't it?" she reflected quietly. "Because you were ill. And practically blind." Her tone carried none of the accusation she'd have expected – just pure understanding as it all suddenly made sense. She didn't know how much Sasuke had improved, but the older Uchiha's defeat at his hands had sounded almost too good to be true. There was no doubt that Sasuke had been exceptional among their age group, but it was hardly realistic that within a short few years, he'd gotten strong enough to kill a famed genius who'd made ANBU captain at the same age that he'd been a mere genin.

A fresh wave of dread washed over her. It was because of her that Uchiha Itachi sat here, as good as new, as powerful as he'd ever been, and as a viable threat to both Naruto and Sasuke.

She dared a peek when he didn't respond. His half-lidded gaze was fixed on her, and aside from a faintly furrowed brow, his features held nothing.

"He got lucky," she muttered, more to herself than him, before adjusting her tone. "Are you going to kill him when he tries again?"

A flare of hope ignited within her then, making it impossible to swallow against her dry throat. Maybe – just maybe – the considerate, seemingly non-violent man she'd gotten a glimpse of would willingly spare his younger brother's life.

It was a dangerous notion, but one she could no longer overlook.

If there was even the slightest chance that he'd consider sparing him – a possibility she wouldn't have dared hope for a week ago – then Sakura was prepared to do anything to convince him. She knew Sasuke would never stop, and with the Uchiha's newly restored powers, her old teammate's life very well rested on his shoulders.

Abruptly, she leaned toward him, her palms breaking out in a sweat inside her clenched fists. "He's been through enough. Just—" She floundered for words, her voice brimming with despair. "You've already proven yourself. There's no reason for you to take his life when you've already taken everything else from him!" Her plea ended on a desperate yell.

His only reaction was a clenched jaw as he dropped his gaze to the amber flames. Although his show of unease was a first, it wasn't enough to appease her. She was grasping at straws to get a rise out of him, clueless as to what his motive for the massacre even was, and tried a different approach when he kept silent.

"The two of you are the only ones left," she said, softer, and swallowed when she was his throat constrict as though he were restraining his words. "The last Uchiha. If you've ever had even an inkling of respect for the Uchiha name, then—"

"A name, Haruno-san." He cut her off, his voice deeper than she'd ever heard. Smouldering onyx clashed with emerald. " _Uchiha"—_ it sounded like it was being spat out, even in that quiet lilt—"is only a name. A label. One of many that lack in noble morality. Just another name that pledges to reinforce divisions in a world that already bears too many."

His commanding tone effectively silenced the rest of her words. Sakura stared back at him breathlessly.

"In this flawed world where respect is both easily gained and easily lost, I would rather save my reverence for those who deserve it – and I'm afraid the Uchiha are not among the worthy."

The last drop of her temper was swept away by his unforgiving words. Sakura was on her feet before she knew it.

"Not among _the_ _worthy_?!" she thundered, and it took every ounce of her control to not lunge at him. "You slaughtered them! You _ended_ them - on a pure whim! The _least_ you could do—" Her mouth snapped shut.

Silence.

Harsh reality slammed into her, suddenly, violently, and in booming echoes that belied the quiet. In the wake of the attack, Sakura found herself all too aware of who it was she was trying to reason with.

Molten ice crept into her muscles. Her disappointment was palpable and more painful than his words could ever be. The glimmer of hope that'd been steadily growing in her chest over the last few days flickered out unceremoniously, leaving behind only cold emptiness.

Who was she trying to convince? This was _Uchiha Itachi_. A heartless, despicable man if ever there was one. No doubt he'd kill his little brother without so much as batting an eye.

A newfound cold settled beneath her skin. Sakura turned away from him, left with nothing more to say.

Nothing at all.

* * *

The young Uchiha tore through the trees far faster than necessary. He'd long quit his forlorn attempts to slow down. He couldn't surrender the agonizing-yet-welcome ache clawing at his lungs and demanding more oxygen. If it ebbed away, a more vigorous pain would take its place, and Sasuke lacked the strength to handle that.

He'd been running for two days straight – hadn't so much as missed a step – and risked fatal dehydration if he didn't sustain himself soon.

The last few weeks of his life had been an uproar of catastrophes. Sasuke had wondered on more than a single occasion whether the one godforsaken night from his childhood could measure up to the inner turmoil he'd recently had to battle. He was leaning toward a no at this point.

At his next sighting of a stream, he decided to quench his thirst, praying with all his might that the agony in his lungs lingered until he headed out again.

It was his second day travelling back from the Howling Wolf Village at the Land of Medicines. It was a far-off land he'd never been to before, but according to Madara, it was a village his brother had visited often to acquire his eye medication. He'd set off with the excuse of obtaining more, but really, he just needed to get away – away from Madara, away from searching eyes, and away from the truth.

Of course, the trip had hardly let him escape reality. His late brother's accomplices hadn't refrained from showering him with praises, treating him like they knew everything about him and gushing about how his brother had told them all about his perfect otouto and what a loving niisan he'd had.

His niisan.

Sasuke shoved his face into the water and drank until his lungs protested, returning the much-needed agony to his chest.

They'd offered their deepest condolences and had even shed some tears – tears that'd finally found Sasuke on his last night at the village. Tears that still lingered just beneath his screaming lungs, ready to gush out at the first sign of weakness.

His logic was lost to his grief. He was clueless as to where to go, what to do. All he acknowledged was his need to end the gut-wrenching pain by whatever means necessary. He'd already visualized the persons responsible for his demise, for his brother's demise, and for his clan's demise, and he'd slit their throats, tortured them to the brink of sanity, and strangled them with his bare hands. The visions that engulfed his dreams – both day and night – had served him some reprieve. Some peace. But it wasn't enough.

He needed more. His selfish desire to end the pain was much too strong, and he cared for nothing else. Not Madara, not the Akatsuki - they were merely his means to an end.

Only revenge.

He whipped his head out of the water, retching and coughing as his desperate lungs fought for air. Slowly, Sasuke heaved himself to his feet. Madara had promised him Konoha, and it was time to collect.

* * *

Itachi noiselessly landed on the soft terrain with the kunoichi in tow, slowing them to a walk ahead of the dreary gates. This village was a sharp contrast to the last; instead of the vibrant, inviting banners, shops held worn signs that'd faded with age, and the inhabitants that trudged the uneven cobblestones appeared less than animated compared to the other's buzzing crowds.

He'd been here a few times, and despite its unappealing guise, the village wasn't held in ill repute. It'd simply been left to its own devices and did little business with tourists. It was situated in the southern region of the Land of Fire – a considerably less populated area – so didn't receive foreigners regularly, and was seldom dragged into village politics. All in all, it was an average settlement with a largely civilian population that'd fallen into what Itachi saw as blissful routine.

He led them to an inn and glanced at the somber girl as they waited to collect their key. She hadn't spoken a word since their unpleasant exchange the night before, and although he'd didn't mind the silence – welcomed it in fact – he couldn't help feeling uneasy with her utterly dejected spirits. It was more disheartening this time around, though Itachi wasn't sure if he merely perceived it that way now that he was more aware of the kunoichi. Either way, it was a sharp contrast to the pleasant standing they'd reached prior to their disagreement.

 _Disagreement indeed_ , he thought to himself. He was still troubled with the fact that she'd drawn a reaction out of him. He very rarely acted on impulse, yet the words had left his lips without his consent. He couldn't understand why, and for the first time in a long time, his shortcoming was causing him distress.

He'd almost felt…guilty when she'd desperately pleaded with him for his brother's life. This was unusual. Itachi wasn't prone to guilt – not when it came to anything she or anyone else had to say when they were ignorant of the truth. His guilt was his own, and he bore plenty of it already. It was pointless to shed remorse over being a cold-blooded murderer when the allegations were skewed.

And yet, he'd found himself with the inexplicable urge to explain himself, as he now often did around her. To show her the side of him that wasn't a monster. But somehow, it wouldn't come. He supposed he couldn't actively reveal something he himself hadn't seen in many years – for all he knew, it no longer existed.

She rushed to the bathroom the moment he held open the door. Sounds of running water drifted into the room as he draped his cloak over the sole chair. He'd noted her desire for a bath ever since their muddy shower days ago – made more apparent by her increased grumbling every time she tried to untangle her pink locks. He hoped a day's worth of hygiene and rest would help elevate her mood.

Once they were both acceptably clean, he announced their outing for dinner, first requesting she henge her hair and remove her hitai-ate. They were in Fire country after all, and he had no doubt that pink hair was an abnormality solely associated with the Hokage's apprentice. She complied without comment, then followed him outside. After two blocks of her complete disregard of all food options, he led them to a ramen parlor and watched as she grudgingly asked the earnest woman at the counter for the same dish she'd ordered last time.

They delved into their separate bowls at a corner table, and Itachi concurred with his previous surmise that her preferred dish seemed a little extravagant for what he'd sensed of her character.

It was near the end of their meal when two elderly men shuffled into the otherwise empty shop.

The woman offered the pair a warm smile. "How are you today, Hatsuo-san, Fuyuki-san? The usual?"

"Hai hai," one of the men replied in a husky voice worn with age as the two settled themselves behind the counter. "I've had better days, Manami-san."

Her brow furrowed as she began preparing their meals. "Oh gomen Fuyuki-san, are you alright?"

Fuyuki gave a distracted wave of his hand. "Fine fine, nothing wrong with me, don't you worry. Just the troubling news the Konoha messenger brought this morning."

The girl beside him tensed at the mention of their village, but continued scooping the last spoonful of broth in her bowl without pause.

The woman's frown deepened, hands pausing. "What news?"

The other man spoke up for the first time. "You haven't heard?! Oh but Manami-san, you work too hard," he chided. "You should leave the shop more often."

"They relayed the passing of one of the Legendary Sannin," Fuyuki-san answered her, disregarding his friend's comment.

Manami's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my! Surely not Hokage-sama?!"

Although the conversation had surely piqued Itachi's interest by that point, his attention was diverted by the stunned girl who'd frozen beside him as they'd made to leave their seats.

Hatsuo scoffed. "Of course not. That news would have found even you in this shop."

Fuyuki heaved a great sigh. "It's Jiraiya-sama," he announced gravely.

"Oh dear," Manami whispered, concerned eyes settling on the two men before her.

"Sure as hell didn't see that one coming," Hatsuo grouched. "Then again, he never sat still from what I heard. Was always going place to place. Guess he ran into trouble in the end."

Fuyuki looked at his friend sharply. "Don't you speak about him that way, Hatsuo! We've lived through his entire time, we know what he's done for us. Surely we wouldn't be sitting here without him!" He sighed, turning solemn. "I remember all too well those dreadful days of the Second War. Right 'round the time my grandson was born. I worried for his future every day! Who knows what would've happened to us if the likes of Jiraiya-sama hadn't defended our land?!"

Her astonishment was fighting a losing battle against an array of emotions that let loose all at once. Itachi watched, missing nothing, as devastating anguish won over her features briefly, before pure terror latched on for good. She swallowed visibly, and seeming to gather her wits, stepped toward the counter. He made no move to stop her, curious as to what she would do.

"Gomenasai," she called softly, folding into a gracious bow. Her mien could almost pass for dispassionate next to the fiery spectrum of expressions he knew she kept at her arsenal. Despite this, she had a gentleness about her that was completely alien to him. "Forgive me for intruding. I happened to overhear and"—she straightened and clasped her hands over her chest, taking another nervous step forward—"were you informed of his cause of death? If you would be so kind to share it with me."

Fuyuki gave the chestnut-haired girl a dejected smile. "Of course, my child. We were told he'd died in battle, though I'm afraid no other details were spared." He shook his head, visibly troubled. "Not that it'd make a difference - us civilians hardly understand the conflicts between shinobi."

"It's a good thing too," Hatsuo muttered. "Such reckless lives, those of shinobi."

Fuyuki's fist descended on the countertop. "Stop disrespecting, Hatsuo!" he yelled. "What you call reckless is their efforts to protect those who can't fend for themselves!"

Turning back to the girl, he continued gently. "I apologize my child. That's all we were told. But may I ask – I don't think you're from around here, I've never seen you before. Are you visiting?"

Itachi watched her improvise flawlessly. "Just passing by, sir," she said, offering the man a small smile. "My friend and I are on a mission to the edge of the country. We hope to discover the finest beaches the land has to offer before the summer heat weighs us all down."

Three pairs of eyes glanced his way and back.

"Oh what a wonderful idea!" the woman chirped, clasping her hands in glee. "Ah, the wonders of youth… What a lovely couple you two make."

Her smile remained intact. "Arigatou gozaimasu, for the meal and for your time," she said, bowing once more. "And again, I apologize for intruding."

Fuyuki waved a hand her way. "You were hardly intruding, my dear. And anyway - your generation ought to be more aware of our nation's politics, so it brings me happiness to see your interest." He offered the both of them a grandfatherly look. "Today's peace was hard-earned after all, and we would do well to remember that."

The change in her mood was palpable as they exited the parlor. He caught a glimpse of her shadowed expression, easily detecting the raucous struggle behind hazy emeralds. The news had come as an unexpected surprise indeed. He'd merely shared brief exchanges with the notable man during his ANBU days, but it was no secret that Konoha, as well as the Land of Fire at large, had been utterly devoted to the Sannin since his triumphs at the Second Shinobi War. He knew nothing of her relationship with the man but figured she had to have known him personally due to his association with her master and her teammate.

The rest of the night saw the persistence of their silence, no longer tense but bitter. He sensed the grief radiate off of her in waves, yet not once saw any indication of her turmoil. She wore a perfect mask of indifference that somehow held more meaning on her features than any expression ever had. After an hour of restless reading as he inconspicuously watched her defeated form folded beside the window, he pushed himself off the wall and wordlessly left the room to let her mourn in peace.

As he turned away from the door, he respectfully tuned out the thud of a falling body and the choked sob of a broken woman.

* * *

The silver haired man accepted his change before turning away from the vendor. He trudged up the winding road toward his destination, a hand in his pocket while the other held his purchased item. Mind preoccupied, it wasn't until he reached the door that he realized his target wasn't home.

He turned around and retraced his steps down the dark path, beginning to roam the emptying streets as villagers retreated to their homes for the night. He wandered aimlessly, deep in thought, while simultaneously searching for a presence within the boundaries of the village. Finally, he paused, pondering over the unlikely location of his target.

He made a right, taking his steps with newfound purpose as he approached the edge of the village. A blonde mass of hair was visible in the distance, painted a glowing silver under the clear moonlight. He faltered when he saw they had company and heaved a deep sigh, finally letting himself relax.

He stopped to watch for all of a minute. The boy's spiky mane was tousled and the woman's ponytails flailed to the breeze, but they paid their surroundings no heed as they stood at the main gates, bearing no labels in that short moment in time - not as Hokage nor a jinchuuriki but as mere equals - and clung to one another as they sobbed, shared their grief, and mourned the loss of a man – one's lifelong friend and the other's treasured mentor – they'd both loved dearly.

Kakashi's chest felt somewhat lighter when he finally turned to leave. He tightened his grip on the book. It was time to read the last chapter.

* * *

The endless shimmers across the night sky were his sole sources of light. He perched at the very edge of the canopy, on the highest branch of the tallest tree.

Itachi gazed up at the stars with admiration. They were his lone company, and he felt rather content enjoying their presence in solitude. His eyes had struggled to pick out the individual specks for many years, so having the privilege of counting them if he so wished was like a dream come true.

Such clarity was odd at this time of year; then again, the weather in Fire country tended to pleasantly surprise. It was one of the many things he missed whenever he was away – the mild shift of a season that left him feeling equal parts melancholy and hopeful.

He tried to recall the last time he'd gazed at a sky full of stars and distinctly seen its beauty for himself, and his eyes turned hazy with the memory.

 _A pair of crimson orbs glistened behind porcelain. The owner perched on the tree limb, as obscure as a shadow in the darkness of night. His two subordinates flanked him further above, awaiting their captain's orders. He stared unblinkingly at the steps leading to the Nakano Shrine, searching for signs that would indicate the end of the Uchiha clan's secret meeting. It couldn't be much longer._

 _He was reminded of his last visit to the shrine, when he'd acquired the small scroll that now rested hidden in the inner pocket of his flak jacket, safely stored inside a summoning scroll. He'd barely managed to peruse the contents – with his errands in ANBU, clan duty pressures from his father, and the ongoing mission to survey the Uchiha clan, time was a luxury he couldn't afford these days._

 _From what he'd seen, the scroll would require diligent effort to decipher. Itachi had decided to keep quiet about it until he unravelled its contents. He had no intention of feeding silly ideas to power-hungry Uchiha. It would lead to the same result; they'd have found another reason to pet their egos and bask in their mistakenly glorified supremacy, and with the coup well underway, they needed no further encouragements._

 _Movement in his peripheral pulled him from his thoughts. He watched swarms of friends and family alike as they began descending the steps to head home for the night._

 _"_ _Standby," Itachi commanded. "Report to Danzo-sama when I've returned."_

 _"_ _Hai, Taichou!"_

 _He slipped inside the shrine once the last of the Uchiha had dispersed. As always, his feet needed no guidance to find their way, and soon he found himself back in the secret room for the private meeting his father had requested, wondering the reason for the arrangement._

 _The man stood at the head of the room, gazing down at the stone tablet. Itachi approached his father's back, then knelt down to a respectful bow and waited._

 _He didn't have to wait long._

 _"_ _Only those who possess the Sharingan may decipher the tablet,"_ _Fugaku began, reiterating the words Itachi had heard many times. "_ _And even then, it is unclear. One would require the Mangekyou to read it further."_

 _Itachi's eyes trailed up his father's looming figure, settling on the proud symbol that rested on his back. "_ _So you wish for me to tell you what it says?"_

 _After a strained silence, Fugaku glanced back over his shoulder at his firstborn."That's not necessary," he said as the eye in Itachi's line of sight spun into a foreign shape._

 _Itachi's head snapped back. "_ _Mangekyou?!" he breathed,_ _gazing wide-eyed at his father_ _"You have it too, otousan?!" He thought fast, mind absorbing this new crucial information. His father had his own secret, it would seem - and what a dangerous secret it was._

 _What did this mean for the village? How far would this critical detail tip the odds in the Uchiha's favor?_

 _...Did his father know about the scroll, then? Was it another secret weapon, perhaps?_

 _Fugaku turned back to the tablet. "_ _My friend sacrificed himself to protect me in the Third War," he explained, but said no more on the subject. "The Uchiha's road to salvation is carved into this stone. But even with the Mangekyou, we cannot decipher the ending."_

 _Itachi agreed silently, having been unable to read the entire script himself. Where was his father going with this?_

 _"_ _With nothing else to go on," Fugaku continued quietly, "it seems we still have a way to go."_

 _Itachi faltered. Nothing else to go on?_

 _"...We have no other clues, then?" he probed cautiously._

 _Fugaku didn't tear his gaze from the tablet. "Nothing beyond what these eyes have allowed," he murmured, sounding pensive._

 _Understanding and uncertainty washed over him._ _It would seem that his father knew nothing about the scroll, and Itachi was conflicted as to whether he should feel relieved or further troubled by this._

 _Suddenly, Fugaku's spine straightened. "_ _Now that you've also read it, Itachi, you must realize that what the village has forced on the Uchiha clan is wrong."_

 _Itachi's eyes narrowed. "_ _And to retaliate using force is not?" he spoke quietly, steel coating his words. "They already fear we will control the Kyuubi with the Sharingan—"_

 _"_ _The village elders cling to the ghosts of the past and punish us, when no one but Uchiha Madara has achieved such a feat. They fear us, Itachi, and you should know that fear is only overcome by control."_

 _Something inside Itachi snapped. "_ _So you will use force to become the Hokage?!" he seethed, a foreign rush of white-hot rage bursting through his veins. His mind grew dizzy listing the repercussions of such a measure. The lives that'd be lost, the irreversible change that would follow, and the political uproar that would no doubt lead to the biggest Shinobi War yet._

 _"_ _The clan wishes it, Itachi." Fugaku finally turned to face his son, and Itachi was struck by the realization that he hadn't properly_ looked _at his father in a long time. Now, his tousan's dejected features were bared to him: his deep troubled lines, premature wrinkles, and despairing eyes. "I can't stop them, son. But I want to avoid using brute force, which is why I've kept my Mangekyou a secret."_

 _Itachi swallowed, absorbing the sincerity behind his tousan's words. A newfound hatred for his clan flared within him. It was beyond deplorable, the helpless state they'd driven his father – their own clan head._

 _"_ _The clan resents the village, and they won't hold back when the time comes. But Itachi…" The man paused to give a small nod, and Itachi slowly rose to his feet._

 _Fugaku looked straight into his son's eyes. "If you're by my side, my son, we can take them by surprise. We can achieve a bloodless revolution…"_

 _Itachi stared back at his father with wide eyes, saw his desperation and need for his heir's help._

 _"_ _Itachi, son... Please… Save our clan."_

 _._

 _Itachi heaved himself on a rooftop and fell to his knees, staring at hands that wouldn't stop trembling._

The clan. The village.

Duty.

 _He clenched his fists as he picked out a single question out of the horde swarming his mind. Why hadn't the scroll been revealed to his father? If he'd had the Mangekyou since the Third War, that would have given him years to analyze the tablet. And yet, a scroll had never been mentioned._

 _How had Shisui known about it? What did this mean...?_

 _He looked up at the moonless sky. It was a perfect night; not a single cloud was in sight, and the stars twinkled in the absence of moonlight. He wondered idly whether the stars witnessed the endless turmoil in their world, or if life appeared as peaceful from the sky as the stars did from the earth._

Itachi returned to the inn at the first light of day. He could sense the erratic flow of chakra as he approached the room; she'd had a sleepless night as well. He entered quietly, avoiding the girl perched on the window sill.

Silence lingered as the sun rose across the horizon. He'd been engrossed in his book when she spoke up at last.

"I have a request."

He looked up at her, noting the hard lines of her face that seemed so unfitting on her gentle features. Pink hues circled her eyes, but the rest of her skin appeared unblemished.

"There is a personal matter I wish to address," she continued when he remained quiet, waiting. "I need a few supplies and a day's worth of travel."

Her detached tone made him uneasy. He opened his mouth to respond just as she went on.

"Okay."

"You may accompany me."

Her eyes widened at his quick acceptance. Emerald held onyx for a moment before the girl nodded and stood to get ready.

After a quick breakfast, Itachi found their roles reversed. He followed her through the village streets as her eyes roamed the stores, seemingly searching for something.

Their first stop was a small shop that carried a wide range of knickknacks. The dusty interior was unkempt, with objects littering shelves and baskets in no particular arrangement.

He lingered near the front door, watching from afar as she browsed the organized chaos and knelt by a cluttered container filled with trinkets. She returned to his side with a small item in her grip that he couldn't make out and shuffled uneasily as he paid for her purchase.

They entered a bookstore next, and he wondered why she'd picked such a crammed space when the town offered larger bookstores with more variety. They stood, arms almost touching, as she passed a note to the woman behind the counter with a faint blush to her cheeks. The woman swiftly raised both brows before holding up a hand to ask her to wait.

She fidgeted next to him, growing more flustered the longer they waited. Inevitably, Itachi's curiosity was raised.

The source of her distress became apparent when the woman returned with a stack of small, colorful books and laid them side by side on the counter to let her choose.

Icha Icha novels.

Itachi refrained from blinking, opting to look away to try and diffuse some of the anxiety her stunt appeared to be causing her. His good intentions seemed to have the opposite effect, however, as she began turning a darker shade than her hair.

Although the woman had laid out a selection, the girl appeared extremely reluctant to even glance at the books, and finally reached for the middle option with a quiet huff.

Not wishing to prolong her visibly scarring experience, he paid quickly and they exited the store.

She slowed to a stop when they neared the edge of the village, gazing out into the thicket of trees ahead. "What's our location?" she asked, eyes clouded with thoughts and a light frown marring her features.

"Southern Fire," he answered. "Two days northeast of Land of Waves."

She nodded like she understood before turning to face him. "The Shiretoko Goko are a day south, I believe?"

He blinked slowly. "A little over a day, yes."

Features hardening, she nodded again. "I'd like to go there."

He observed her expression, attempting to read underneath her façade. The green of her eyes was slightly dimmed, but aside from a general lack of emotion on her face, she appeared the same as always. After gauging her for a moment longer, he offered a brief nod and they were on their way.

The next day passed by in a blur. Although the strained silence was no longer pressing, her mood held a heavy weight over the pair as they travelled. Even her previously dejected state had carried more meaning – had been more _her_. He briefly wondered whether she was in shock from the somber news. It was certainly possible – though, if that were the case, she was hardly acting as one would. Her determination was evidence to her sensible judgement.

They travelled at a slower pace than usual. Neither had slept the night before, and despite not feeling tired, he would surely suffer the consequences of overexertion when his body resisted him in the near future.

They slept for some short hours in the evening. At a little past midnight, she rose to her feet, ready to head out again. He complied without comment despite the odd hour. She definitely seemed eager to reach their destination, and he considered whether to be concerned about the personal business she was so keen on addressing.

They arrived just as dawn was breaking over the horizon, and Itachi was suddenly thankful that she'd made them leave hours before daybreak.

It was a sight to behold, to be sure.

Shiretoko Goko – the five lakes – stretched before them as far as the eye could see. Smooth as glass, the still water mirrored every shade of the rising sun so perfectly that it painted an exact replica of the morning sky, making it almost impossible to distinguish sky from water. The lakes were a renowned landmark in Fire country, and Itachi had previously passed by the area, but he'd never stumbled upon the scenery at sunrise. Neither had he taken a moment to appreciate the serene beauty of the landscape – perhaps at the fault of his eyesight – and he couldn't deny that it was remarkable.

He glanced at his companion, who stood just ahead of him with a mask of pure awe in place. The soft colors of dawn brushed her delicate features, melding perfectly with the pink of her hair. He felt himself relax as he absorbed the pure, unconcealed sincerity of her admiration. They stood unmoving for some time, her gaze locked on the horizon and his alternating between her and the scenery.

Finally, she moved. He followed her down the gradual slope to the edge of the water and stood to the side as she knelt on the damp soil, fisting the earth over and over and letting it trickle between her fingers. Her hands parted the soil, gently clawing deeper into the dirt. He narrowed his eyes as he watched, trying to understand her intentions.

It dawned on him a split second before she revealed her two items. He blinked slowly, intrigued, as she gingerly placed the objects inside, and he got his first glimpse of the contents.

A toad key chain and the Icha Icha novel.

The ghost of a smile flitted across his lips at her choice of the simple yet precise items to honor the sannin. He watched the scene unfold as a skilled kunoichi in her own right buried a fellow shinobi, paying her respects to his lifelong service to protect his village and loved ones.

The moment left a bitter taste in his mouth. Itachi fought his grimace as he silently condemned their wretched world. No doubt the feats of shinobi were honorable, but the circumstances that called for them were downright deplorable.

He watched her rise to her feet and head for the shore, settling beside a rock to work on its flat surface. She returned shortly after, carrying the boulder like it weighed no more than a pebble, and placed it at the head of the small mound before stepping back.

 _Jiraiya_

 _Legendary Sannin of the Second Shinobi World War_

 _Honored Shinobi of Konohagakure_

 _Beloved Friend, Mentor, Author_

The Leaf symbol was carved above his name, and the small sketch of a toad rested at the bottom. Itachi took a moment to appreciate the value and effort she'd placed in her words. His eyes lingered on _Honored_ and _Beloved_ , and a foreign feeling crawled into his chest. He allowed himself a moment to wonder the contents of his own gravestone had he died at his brother's hands, and then quickly shook the thought. He wouldn't have a gravestone. When he died, his eyes would be removed and his body would be left to rot.

She stepped back from the grave, seemingly pleased with her efforts, then faltered and considered the setup with a small frown, eyes searching for whatever was missing.

Itachi slanted her a glance, then turned to head back up the slope. He drew to a stop beside a bare cherry blossom. Quietly, he observed the tree before snapping a droopy branch off its bark. He returned to her side with sure but mild steps, not wanting to seem threatening, and continued on toward the makeshift grave. She watched him with a deep furrow to her brow, surprise and confusion swimming behind her emeralds. He jammed the branch into the soil behind the rock, releasing his grip when it rested steady, then raised his gaze to its tip and closed his eyes. In the next second, his right eye reopened; the three-armed blade spun as the familiar weight of blood filled his eye. Immediately the top of the branch was engulfed in black flames that contrasted sharply with the soft colors of first light. The girl behind him gasped.

Fire, in the name of their nation.

Or rather, eternal fire.

He closed his eye and surreptitiously wiped the single drop of blood with his index finger before turning around, backtracking to stand beside her. Slowly he removed his cloak and lowered himself to one knee, bowing his head until it almost grazed the earth, and silently offered his prayers.

She stood frozen for long minutes, until finally, she dropped to her knees to mirror him. All was quiet as the first rays of sunshine descended upon the two folded figures before the small grave decked with everlasting flames.

When he finally opened his eyes, he noted the freshly damp soil beside him, the earth swallowing the clear drops hungrily as they fell. He rose to his feet, turning to retrace his steps up the slope to give her some privacy.

He was halfway up when a light breeze caught his hair and ushered the soft words.

"I will look after them, Jiraiya-sama."

* * *

The afternoon sun bore down on the pair as they soared through the trees. The southernmost region of Fire country was noted for its year-round heat that could rival the deserts of Wind country, and it was a particularly cloudless day.

They hadn't lingered at the lakes for longer than necessary, heading out shortly after breakfast. If they pushed through the heat, they'd be back on course by the end of that day. He peeked at his companion. She didn't seem too tired - merely flustered from the weather.

Her mood had improved since her makeshift burial of the sannin that morning – at least as far as he could tell from her ongoing silence. Her chakra felt less sporadic, and the hard lines of her face had somewhat relaxed. He hoped she'd return to her old self soon, though Itachi couldn't understand why he had such a desire.

Abruptly, his heart stumbled in its rhythm behind his ribcage. Just as he wondered whether his sleepless nights were catching up to his body, he sensed it.

This time, his heart skipped a beat.

"What are you…?"

He blinked, unconscious of having stopped dead in his tracks. He ignored her question as he attempted to clear his raging thoughts. This was completely unexpected.

 _Sasuke._

The shock wore off in the next split second, and Itachi snapped back to his senses.

He had to act. Immediately.

They had to move – or rather, she had to move. His otouto couldn't catch a single glimpse of the kunoichi. It was too risky. He couldn't underestimate Madara's influence on his brother – he would never repeat the same mistake.

He rapidly turned to the kunoichi – and faltered when he saw her frozen expression.

She'd sensed him.

* * *

Icy cold oozed into her limbs under the blistering heat, quickly followed by fiery adrenaline that propelled her mind to kickstart from pause.

She considered her options and their respective viabilities at lightning speed. If she ran to Sasuke, the Uchiha would chase her. She highly doubted her chances of outrunning him, and even if she did, he would face his little brother. Sasuke would engage him in battle. Sasuke would die.

She blinked furiously, straining for her floundering senses. Her erratic gaze found him, noting the tense jaw and the hard eyes. Sakura wavered when the implications of his displeasure dawned on her, spurring on a violent surge of nausea that quickly fizzled out in light of the panic-fed inferno that exploded within her.

She'd leapt onto his branch and was onto him in the next instant.

"DON'T KILL HIM!" she cried in a voice she didn't recognize, latching onto his cloak in a useless attempt to restrain him. "PLEASE!"

She was deaf to the desperation in her voice. Her panic-stricken state didn't register the shock that carved onto his features.

He reached for the deathly grip on his cloak, but she didn't let him touch her. Instead, she succumbed to her instincts, and she attacked.

He easily dodged her chakra-laden fist and it connected with the bark of the tree they were perched on. A deafening crack sliced through the quiet as the trunk split and showered her in splinters. She leapt after him, her mind shrouded by a sole thought. It echoed in her brain as she recited it over and over like a prayer.

 _Better me than Sasuke._

It didn't seem like he was in the mood to observe her moves today, however, as Sakura found herself harshly blasted through a tree. She skid along the forest floor before rolling to a stop on her side. A quiet curse carried in the breeze as she remained unmoving, feeling warm liquid trickle down her forehead.

She bided her time, and the moment he arrived at her side, she swung her leg toward his precise location, leaping back to her feet when he jumped back. They recommenced their dodging dance, and Sakura was proud to admit that she blocked his first barrage of attacks before finding her back slammed against another tree, this time subdued.

He held her arms above her head at an odd angle, pushing against the backs of her elbows to restrict all movement in her upper limbs. She resisted, but without her hands, she had no way of shoving him away or gaining leverage. Her erratic breaths mingled with his, and she faintly realized he was also panting, though he didn't appear physically exerted at all. She kept her eyes locked on his chest, having caught the crimson gleam of his Sharingan from the corner of her eye.

She could feel it. Sasuke had sensed their presence and he was approaching – fast. She struggled and shrieked with newfound vigour, having lost the last drop of her judgement to terror.

"Sakura."

His voice stunned her momentarily, and her head snapped up with the shock of hearing her name on his lips. She registered the pair of familiar crimson, so deadly yet beautiful, and surrendered herself as they drew her in, like a moth to a flame, turning deaf ears to the warnings of danger in her head.

Sheer terror latched onto her heart in the final moment of her awareness, and then she was no more.

* * *

Itachi swiftly caught the girl as she fell into his arms. He wasted no time in tearing through the trees in the opposite direction to his brother.

It was his fault. He'd lingered too long, he'd made it too obvious – not to mention he'd been too gentle, too accommodating of her irrational outburst.

He thought back to his seemingly well-made decision to include Haruno Sakura in his plans; she'd had a minor but logical part – logical at the time. But now, not having been aware of Madara's interest in Sasuke had rendered his efforts futile and left him to pick up the pieces. His single advantage was that he'd come across the kunoichi with an odd stroke of luck.

Sasuke was supposed to have returned to Konoha after killing him. His otouto was supposed to have encountered Haruno Sakura, his loyal teammate, after his return to the village. Similar to how he'd sealed a single-use Amaterasu into his brother's Sharingan as a precaution against Madara, Itachi had also sealed his secret into Sasuke's eyes. His secret – the location of the Uchiha stone tablet scroll – that was programmed to be released when Sasuke saw Haruno Sakura. And with the secret passed onto Sasuke, a loyal Konoha-nin, the scroll and its location were supposed to be kept safe – and away from Uchiha Madara.

Yet, all that remained after the failure of his less-than flawless plan was his own life, a pink-haired kunoichi, and his knowledge of where he'd hidden the scroll.

Itachi paused, satisfied that he'd evaded his brother, and bolted in the direction of the Land of Rivers with the unconscious girl cradled in his arms.


	6. White-necked

**Happy 2019! Here's another (lengthy) chapter. I've realized that I won't be able to keep a consistent update schedule for the time being, and I really don't like to make empty promises, so I'd say it could take anywhere from a week to three weeks from now on.**

 ** _The Art of War_ by Sun Tzu mentioned in this chapter is indeed a real book.**

 **(Also, did anyone know that crows had fan shaped tails? I thought it was quite interesting. Then again maybe that's just my Naruto-obsessed side speaking)**

 **Hope you guys enjoy the chapter, and as always, let me know what you think!**

 **Have a good read!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.**

* * *

 _ **~ More Than Meets The Eye ~**_

Winter was knocking on the village door. Konoha had finally succumbed to the bitter winds, and true to its name, gusts of leaves were flurrying over the village with newfound vigor. Hollow wails resonated through the small apartment. Its sole occupant remained unheeding, turning deaf ears to the raucous battle of nature as he kept his unseeing eyes locked on the whitewashed ceiling. There were no witnesses to attest to the length of time he'd been lying on his bed, mute, motionless and circling the recent incidents in his head.

 _Drip._

His ocean blue eyes drifted to the puddle of color on his desk that now dribbled off the side. His mind insisted he have the ice popsicle – the fourteenth he'd procured with great difficulty – but his heart wasn't in it.

Retracting his gaze, he resumed recounting the sources of his despair in order of occurrence.

 _Sasuke._

 _Sakura-chan._

 _Ero-sennin._

Dry tears mingled with muffled anger in a battle for control as he questioned how he'd come to lose three of his most precious people in such a short span of time against all odds to his ninja way. He claimed to never go back on his word, but he hadn't so much as caught a glimpse of his long-lost friend let alone brought him home and he'd failed to protect Sakura-chan. His mind clouded over old memories of their team, reminiscing his friendship with an arrogant teme - a friendship that'd sprouted from rivalry before progressing to an unspoken agreement to protect their third teammate. And yet, he'd failed. He'd failed Sakura on his own. Would it have turned out differently had Sasuke been there? If he'd never left? Would he be angry with Naruto for not looking out for her? He deliberated his old teammate's reaction to the news, basing his ruling on the boy he knew from years ago, and gut wrenching guilt squeezed his insides when he resolved that Sasuke would no doubt be furious with the disappearance of their teammate as well as Naruto's inability to protect her.

He wondered halfheartedly whether the new Sasuke would even care, and quickly dismissed the thought. Of course he would. If he could only find him and speak to him, maybe he'd join Naruto in his efforts to save Sakura. The prospect was reassuring, somehow - Sasuke would no doubt chase after Sakura-chan if nothing but for her current captor, Uchiha Itachi.

He frowned as his thoughts turned to the older Uchiha. Their odd exchange before the brothers' battle had left him with a hollow chest and an unsettled mind. Naruto hadn't had the time to mull over Itachi's words, but he had an inkling that they hadn't been groundless. After all, why else would the Uchiha have desired to speak with him instead of attacking him?

 _"_ _You've been trying to bring Sasuke back to Konoha, but what if the circumstances don't allow it?"_

 _"_ _If Sasuke returns with you willingly, there's no issue; but what if the opposite happens?"_

 _"_ _What if Sasuke were to attack Konoha? What would you do then?"_

 _"_ _Could you weigh Sasuke against the village?"_

 _"_ _Could you kill Sasuke? Could you kill him if you were left with no other choice?"_

 _"_ _I have shared some of my powers with you. I hope there's never a day that you have to use them."_

His fingers grazed his throat as he recalled the suffocating crow that'd forced itself down his airway. What did Itachi mean? What was his basis for asking such aggravating questions?

…Could Naruto do it? He swallowed.

No. Just like he'd told the Uchiha; he would protect Konoha, but he would also stop Sasuke without killing him. He would do it. Believe it...

He inspected the cracks that littered his ceiling. What would Ero-sennin do?

There was no question that his late master had taught Naruto many valuable lessons, but the man's disapproval of Naruto's unwavering resolve to save his friend from his own darkness had been no secret; after all, the sannin had abandoned his own efforts for Orochimaru. But it didn't matter. Naruto wouldn't be discouraged – it was his ninja way.

Ero-sennin…

The now-familiar agony tugged at his heart. Anger had become a distant reality over the weeks. Anger at himself for failing Sakura-chan, anger at his master for being so irresponsible with his life, and anger at Tsunade for letting him leave on a doomed mission. It had all ebbed away to be replaced by nauseating sorrow. Baachan had found him at the main gates during one of his moments of despair, and her odd display of affection had left him somewhat comforted, though also slightly disoriented.

Naruto had never experienced loss before – not like this. He'd never mourned over a loved-one, and he'd been quick to accept that his grief would never fade. It would merely linger, right beneath his skin, right beneath every smile – forever a part of him, forever etched into him.

 _"_ _What the hell do YOU understand?! What makes you think that you could understand ANYTHING about me when you've never even had parents or siblings?! You've been alone from the start!_ _How could you possibly understand what it feels like TO LOSE ALL OF THAT?!"_

'I couldn't understand, Sasuke... Not back then. But now…now I do.'

His heart went out to his friend who'd lost so much more much too soon, and for the first time ever, he truly empathized with his quenching need to destroy the one responsible.

Pein…

He swallowed the ugly swarm of emotions. Did Naruto seek revenge? Would he always bear a personal grudge? Would he take the first opportunity to destroy Pein – and the Akatsuki – for taking Ero-sennin away from him?

Yes, he did. Yes, he would.

Perhaps now that he understood, it would be easier to convince Sasuke to return...

Naruto's fists clenched in rage as it triumphed over his grief. It seemed that all sources of his despair traced back to the Akatsuki; they nurtured Uchiha Itachi for whom Sasuke had abandoned them, they'd taken Sakura-chan, and they'd killed his master.

Naruto heaved himself to his feet with newfound resolve. It was time to pay Baachan a visit.

* * *

The fresh scent of pine teased her senses as her awareness floated through blissful void. The serenity of her oblivion was repressing a sense of urgency that was fighting to burst from the depths of her conscience. It was a vexing sensation, almost as if she'd forgotten something crucial but couldn't quite remember what it was – and her mind was desperate to remind her. She batted it away, but the nagging only grew in increments until the blank emptiness that surrounded her had morphed into a bloody crimson. A distantly familiar shape materialized before her then, and the three spinning tomoe were the last she registered before her eyes snapped open.

"SASUKE-KUN!"

Her choked gasp blocked her airways as she sat up quickly, panting along to the sporadic rhythm of her heart. Having finally sensed her urgency, the adrenaline in her system was immediate, but a quick inspection told Sakura that her old teammate was nowhere near – and neither was the source of her demise, his older brother.

Fear clawed at her insides as her mind clouded with overwhelming panic for Sasuke's life. Jumping to her feet, she looked around frantically to get her bearings. Surely they couldn't be too far?

Just as she'd decided to begin a blind search, she sensed the Uchiha – not the one she'd hoped for – and the man dropped noiselessly on the edge of the bank across from her.

Sakura's breath caught in her throat when she met those blank onyx eyes. They stared at one another for a tense, painstaking moment as Sakura replayed the entirety of the recent incident to herself – all the way until she hit a blank.

"What did you do?" she breathed, fists trembling at her sides as she feebly readied herself for the worst. She took a few hesitant steps forward before finally rushing to his side. "What did you do?! Where is Sasuke?!"

Eyebrows furrowed over his stoic features. With almost tentative movements, he closed the distance between them until Sakura had to tilt her head back to look at hazy orbs that weren't quite focused on hers. His hand rose slowly, reaching for her inch by inch. Sakura stood, eyes wide, feet frozen, until his fingertips grazed her forehead in a ghostly touch. The absence of warmth from the contact drew her out of her daze - something was hindering the sensation. She mirrored his movement and felt the rough material of a bandage beneath her fingertips.

He seemingly recovered from his trance then, his digits freezing against her, and he'd retracted his hand in the next instant. She jerked her head away harshly before wrenching the bandage off her head, wincing slightly as it pulled on her wound.

"Answer me," she demanded in a quiet voice that oozed of strength she didn't possess. "Where is he?"

He met hardened emeralds for the first time. "We evaded him."

She blinked. "We evaded him…?"

"Yes."

A sharp breath made its way into her lungs. "You didn't kill him?" She sounded too hopeful – she hated exposing so much to him.

He remained silent for a moment, watching her with indiscernible eyes that held faint, purple hues underneath – taints to his features she'd never before seen.

"No."

She held her breath and studied him, searching for any signs of deceit, though already she found herself believing him. He hadn't yet given her a reason to doubt his word – if anything, he tended to evade questions he wished not to answer instead of downright lying to her.

She nodded absently, still in a daze, heart still pounding against her ribcage, before beginning to turn away.

"I apologize."

Her eyes snapped up to his and refocused. She noted the tense jaw, the hard line of his lips, and the eyes – his eyes that had melted into liquid onyx and were gazing down at her with unconcealed sincerity. All coherent thought was lost to the depths of a warm, black sea. His softened expression strangely complimented the harder lines of his face, looking almost out of place over his commonly impassive features. The raw emotion that hid underneath left her momentarily mesmerized.

"I apologize for harming you. I got ahead of myself." The words trickled from his lips like a vow in an unmistakably gentle but assured tone. "I hadn't planned on using my Sharingan, but I could think of no other way to subdue you without causing any more harm."

Startling anger coursed through her veins. Sakura squeezed her eyes shut in the wake of the sore emotions that slammed into her, resisting the urge to growl. What the hell was his problem? It was so much easier when he gave her excuses to hate him - when he justified her hostility - and she'd now come to despise these moments of resentful doubt he drew from her. And what was worse - she _knew_ he wasn't trying to deceive her. He was truly, genuinely sorry, and for the first time in her life, Sakura found herself wishing she was being fooled.

Averting her eyes, she breathed through her fury and finally mustered up the energy to swallow her unease. Her tentative fingers found the source of his apparent displeasure, and warmth seeped into her skin as she applied healing chakra on the wound. He watched for the entirety of the thirty seconds that it took to fix the gash.

"It's fine. No harm done," she muttered, gesturing her healed wound with a half-hearted shrug before adding grudgingly, "If Sasuke is alive, there's no issue."

She turned away from him then, almost sighing in relief to be distanced from the intense air he brought with his proximity. She walked over to the cloak that lay sprawled over the shrubbery and picked it up – only to find another underneath that'd been folded neatly into a makeshift pillow. She stared at the identical garments quizzically. The only visible difference was that one was noticeably shorter than the other.

All remaining strength gushed out of her limbs, making her shoulders drop. It was hardly shocking that he'd made her a bed considering his thoughtful ways. What suddenly troubled her, however, was the growingly weak reminder of exactly _who_ he was when he never seemed to act his part, not to mention how easy it was becoming to forget the rest of the obvious reasons why she ought to not trust him or appreciate his considerate nature. Even their dispute from days ago seemed so distant and insignificant at this point.

Heaving a weary sigh, she reigned in her displeasure and began a slow stroll back in his direction. He was crouched over a bed of dried leaves and was breathing a stream of orange flames from his lips. She watched the fire flicker and dance for a moment before facing him as he stood.

"Thank you," she said and kept her eyes locked on his chest as he accepted the cloak, almost missing his quick nod in response when she turned toward the river to freshen up.

Only after she'd comfortably settled among the roots of a maple tree did she allow the waves of relief to wash over her. Sasuke was alive. He was safe. By the sounds of it, they hadn't even encountered him – though Sakura distinctly remembered Sasuke sensing their presence and attempting a confrontation. Frowning, she pondered over her old teammate's reaction to sensing his older brother's chakra – the very brother he likely thought to be dead after the condition he'd left him in – and her chakra, together, as a most questionable duo. Surely it would baffle him. Though, either way, it hardly mattered; it was true that if Sasuke could somehow defeat his brother, the majority of their team's troubles would meet an end, but Sakura vehemently stood behind her decision to refrain from jeopardizing Sasuke's life over such a slim possibility, especially since the Uchiha seemed to have no qualms about killing his little brother.

She recounted the scene to herself, recalling her frantic state that'd led to her abandoning all logic. Common sense had flown out the window. She'd been willing to give up her own life in place of Sasuke's. _'Better me than him'_ , she'd thought. Sakura hung her head in shame, battling the urge to groan. If ever her shishou found out that she'd prioritized her old teammate's life over her own, that she'd risked her life to protect that of a missing-nin's – that damned Uchiha brat, as she liked to call him – no doubt she'd beat her into a bloody pulp and Sakura could wave her status goodbye. With good reason too, she supposed. Her life was too precious, what with her ability to save lives and whatnot, and she couldn't go flaunting herself in danger's arms. It had been eerily irresponsible, and she inwardly scolded herself.

Another weary sigh escaped her lips as she drew her knees to her chest and sought a moment of peace, letting the forest hums wash over her senses. The sun marked an hour until sunset, and she wondered why he'd chosen to stop so early in the evening. With every passing minute, her nerves seemed to settle just a little further until she was mostly back to her senses, and with that calm clarity, her other teammate stole over her thoughts just as he'd been doing for the past few days and guilt tugged at her heart for the umpteenth time that week.

Sakura had mourned the passing of the legendary sannin as a dedicated Konoha shinobi would. There was no questioning Jiraiya-sama's priceless service to their village. Although she hadn't spent much time around him, he'd been a familiar presence over the past few years due to his close association with the two permanent fixtures in her life. Sakura had been extremely saddened with the grave news, but her grief had been nothing compared to the pain she'd felt at her friend's and her master's loss. She could only imagine Naruto's relationship with the man, which she assumed would rival her own with her shishou. If ever she were to lose her master... Anguish rippled through her, and her heart went out to her friend for the inevitable sorrow that would follow him for the rest of his life. And similarly, Tsunade had lost her teammate, her friend – she'd lost her Naruto, an idiotic presence that'd provided her with endless support.

What was worse, however, and had left her sobbing uncontrollably, was her inability to support them during their time of need – especially Naruto. He'd battled too many mishaps in his lifetime, and Sakura felt immense guilt for her failure as a friend during such a difficult time in his life.

They'd failed to find Sasuke, she had disappeared without a trace, and now he'd lost his master. Sakura's nails dug into her skin.

 _I am so sorry, Naruto…_

Her inner turmoil had calmed considerably, however, once she'd paid her respects to the man. The entire episode had granted her with some much-needed peace, along with an array of other emotions she was yet to discern.

A sudden image of black flames flickering against the pale colors of sunrise engulfed her mind, drawing an involuntary shiver up her spine. She'd only briefly heard of the eternal fire – the lethal flames that demolished all they came in contact with. Her single source of intelligence had been the Uchiha's share on the bingo book. Even within the supposedly reliable pages, his ability to annihilate fire itself was listed as a myth. In fact, among the extensive collection of abilities that were listed under his name, many were speculations at best, and although this had initially come as a shock to Sakura when she'd first researched him, it now made sense to her. His seemingly non-violent demeanor was likely to blame for his lack of power displays, leaving the extent of his abilities as mere rumors.

She glanced across the clearing to watch the Uchiha with appraising eyes. Lighting a fire during a funeral was common in Konoha. It was part of the ritual to honor fallen comrades, given how it represented their village almost as much as the leaf symbol did.

Was he aware of her knowledge of what the black flames symbolized? That she'd realized the extent of respects he'd paid the late Konoha shinobi by lighting an eternal fire under his name? For the life of her, Sakura couldn't understand why he'd done it. If anything, his display of deference at the man's grave following the odd gesture had left her even warier, when he'd so comfortably bowed his head for the sannin. But despite the peculiar scenario, Sakura still felt grateful for his moment of unexpected support, whether it was intentional or not.

Though, she couldn't say she appreciated the turmoil he'd caused in the process. She'd been left to question everything she knew about the man once again.

He had slaughtered his entire clan – his parents, the elderly, _children_ – yet he disliked violence and avoided killing. He'd openly insulted the Uchiha, essentially spitting on their grave, but he was adamant about treating her with respect and consideration. He was an active member of the terrorist organization that posed the biggest threat to her village, yet he was pleasant and easily offered smiles, he'd paid for her needs and cooked for her without miss even though she could easily do it herself, and he'd agreed to her secretive mission with no trouble at all, actively choosing to trust her blindly. He'd refused to spare Sasuke... But he'd respectfully given her the privacy to mourn in peace and had offered his esteems to an enemy in the most elaborate of ways when he hadn't been obliged to do anything at all.

The prickles of a headache nudged at her senses. She gave an absent chakra tap to her temple to soothe the oncoming pain before pausing.

He had slammed her against a tree – and not-so-gently, might she add.

Despite all the proof that rested against him, for reasons unknown, the minor incident where he'd attempted to harm her stood out from the rest. Perhaps it was because he'd never before displayed any form of needless violence let alone initiate it. At least this was concrete evidence that she'd witnessed for herself.

She almost smirked. Uchiha Itachi wasn't a saint after all.

Although her doubts were hardly appropriate for a man who'd slaughtered his family, she obviously couldn't blame herself for her skepticism, and this verdict after he'd finally exhibited a loss of self-control – his first flaw that she'd witnessed with her own eyes – left her more relieved than anything else. It was an indication that she wasn't going crazy and that any doubts over her mental stability were likely unfounded. If he'd somehow been violent towards her, it was entirely possible that he'd been so with his family as well – people he seemingly despised.

Logically, it seemed highly unlikely to Sakura that the Uchiha massacre was the result of a mere loss of self-control by a man who had, at the time, symbolized the very epitome of self-composure, but at least the slim possibility gave her a tangible reason to blame the pleasantly peaceful man. It was a welcome notion – one that suddenly turned the criminal in front of her into a person with flaws as well as strengths to his persona, and she found herself relaxing considerably in his presence – even more so than she had during their previous understanding.

Her recent revelations were still crowding her mind when he finally stirred to catch the dead rabbit a crow dropped over him. She watched his slender fingers work as they skinned the animal with an elegance she didn't think could accompany such a gruesome activity. Her eyes followed the dark maroon droplets that trickled down strong hands as his fingers dug into flesh. When finished, he flung the skin back into the air for awaiting crows to gnaw at before placing their meal over the blazing fire.

She'd watched the entire scene unfold a countless number of times before, but the graceful purpose and efficiency that accompanied each of his movements as he executed even the most rudimentary task never ceased to captivate her.

Releasing a reluctant sigh, Sakura made the decision she hadn't even realized needed making. She rose to her feet and slowly approached the fire to settle opposite him, wordlessly declaring peace.

* * *

He hefted himself up the last step before beginning a slow trudge along the vacant, curving hallway. He drew to a halt at his intended door before turning the knob to let himself in.

"Grieving is no excuse for disrespect, Naruto."

He ignored the Hokage's words and walked up to her desk, staring intently at her form while the woman's focus remained on her paperwork, gaze following along to the messy scrawl of her hand. Silence ensued.

"Spit it out and be done with it, kid."

"I wanna know what you're planning to do to rescue Sakura-chan."

She disregarded his request entirely, seemingly taking her time with the report before reaching for another over the looming tower beside her.

Naruto's fists clenched tighter as the seconds trailed on, and just as he was about to snap, she dropped her pen with a soft clink and leaned back on her chair with a weary sigh.

"Honestly, I'm surprised it's taken you this long to demand answers from me." She propped an elbow on her arm rest and cradled her head, throwing him a dubious look. "I expected you to abandon all logic and rush after her yourself by now."

Naruto swallowed, clenched fists trembling at his sides. "I can't afford to..." he rasped quietly and swallowed again to find his voice, his unseeing gaze locked on her desk. "I need to get stronger. I can't afford to fail her."

Tsunade hummed. "You're accepting the offer then, I see." She closed her eyes. "When do you leave?"

Naruto shook his head violently as a growl rose from his throat. "What are you gonna do about Sakura-chan?!" he exploded. "It's been weeks baachan! How can you sit there doing nothing when she could be-,"

"Naruto."

His jaw snapped shut with an audible snap. Tsunade's eyes fluttered open and sized him up over a careful, tense moment, before she leaned forward ever-so-slowly, propped her elbows on the desk and clasped her fingers together, her gaze never once wavering from his. Then, she started to speak, and her tone – stern and authoritative – belonged to the Godaime of Konoha, the granddaughter of the Shodai - a tone Naruto very rarely heard.

"You may be one of the most important people in her life, but you're also one of many who've coddled her through the years – in fact, you do it the most." She held up a hand to thwart the words of protest when he made to interrupt. "I'm not saying you meant her any harm or that you think her weak – but your actions _have_ caused Sakura to doubt her abilities many times over in the past."

She paused, and Naruto found himself silenced.

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to your poor attempts at a rescue speech, because, frankly, Haruno Sakura is no kunoichi that needs rescuing. I'm well aware of her abilities and her potential – definitely more so than you are – and as the apprentice to the Hokage, I believe your teammate deserves a little more of your faith. So I suggest you reconsider your impression of her."

She took a deep breath and lowered her head. Her blonde bangs draped shadows over her eyes.

"However, despite my absolute confidence that she will take care of herself, there is no denying that she is dealing with the likes of the Akatsuki – who, after their stunt against Jiraiya, happen to have bumped up to first place on our list of threats. So contrary to what you might think, I have not 'sat here, doing nothing'. Over the past few months, multiple teams have been dispatched to obtain intel on the Akatsuki. Their main mission objective has now been reformed, and they are to locate Sakura and bring her back home safely."

Her index finger tapped once over her knuckles as she met his gaze squarely.

"Do not question your Hokage's ability to perform their duties, Naruto. It would do you good to exercise some faith for when it's your turn to uphold the responsibilities. Or is it no longer your wish to become Hokage?" Raising her chin, she shot him a half-lidded, condescending look.

"It is," he replied, hands trembling at his sides.

"Good."

The tension dissolved in the next moment, leaving the boy slightly dumbfounded. She turned to a stack of papers on her left. "Now. When do you leave for Mount Myoboku?"

His gaze drifted sideways. "Tonight," he mumbled.

"Right. Now get out of my office. Oh and," she said as she reached under her desk to draw more piles of paper. "Get me Shikamaru. I need his report on how you two managed to decipher my idiotic teammate's code. And where the hell is Shizune?!"

Her blonde mob of hair reappeared over the desk. Naruto stood and watched her for a moment longer.

"I will avenge him, baachan," he said quietly before slowly turning to leave.

Brown orbs lingered on his back until he reached the door. "...And Naruto, if you don't knock next time, I won't be as lenient when you come whining."

* * *

The pair kept silent, both lost in the entrancing amber flares that danced in the darkness. Sakura almost smiled after a closer inspection. The flames were shaped as always, with the tips slightly elongated, twisting and curling in a manner that could only be described as beautiful. She'd idly realized that he was deliberately shaping them this way and had grown oddly fond of the charming sight.

Her gaze drifted to the man as he took to slicing the meat into neat strips and lining the pieces along a twig, placing a mint leaf between every other portion. She almost shook her head at his needless antics and gave a feeble nod of thanks when he passed her share. Twirling the stick between her fingers, she decided to question his relentless ways of feeding her for the third time.

"Why do you do this?"

He caught her gaze across the fire as he held his own untouched food between loose fingers, showing no intention of starting his meal until after she had as per usual.

He blinked unhurriedly – a gesture she'd come to associate with his inability to decide how to respond to her – and like every other time, she found her gaze drawn to his unfairly long lashes as they fluttered with the effort.

She gestured with a tilt of the skewer in her grip. "Why do you put in so much effort to make it look so…" Her voice trailed off as she wagged the stick in search of the word, "Pretty?"

A single brow tugged upwards as his lips curled into his smirk-resembling-smile. "I believe there's no point in performing a task unless it is to the best of your ability… and presentation is a substantial part of any meal, wouldn't you agree?"

She had to blink a few times; first upon hearing the soft tenor of his voice after their near-silence for the entirety of the afternoon, then again after processing his cryptic words.

Sighing softly, she threw a fleeting glance at the neatly arranged food before letting a small smile settle on her lips. His features faltered briefly in response, and she suddenly realized that it was her first time offering him a real smile. A faint blush colored her cheeks at the possibility that he too had noticed this and she turned away, biting the inside of her cheek.

"I guess," she said.

A momentary quiet passed through the clearing. He continued to stare at her intently.

"Is it alright with you?" he finally asked quietly.

She felt another smile nudging at her lips. "Yeah it's alright… It's nice."

An awkward silence settled over the two then as they both separately processed the word "nice" as a means to describe anything associated with Uchiha Itachi. The instant ended with her small huff of laughter.

His gaze flickered back to her face, and he observed her for a moment. "You're amused," he murmured softly, his onyx eyes gleaming with his own mirth.

She offered a playful smirk with a quick roll of her eyes. "I am," she agreed, providing the verification he obviously didn't need. His eyes seemed to flash brighter in response, and she made the idle realization that he seemed more entertained by her reaction than by the reason for her amusement.

"You're easily amused."

She made an unladylike noise in the back of her throat, slightly baffled with their easy exchange so soon after the hostility. "And you're so good at stating the obvious."

He blinked sluggishly for a moment before his features twisted into what was the closest resemblance of a smirk she'd ever seen on him. Sakura suddenly found her throat to be inexplicably dry. Whipping her head down, she busied herself with her meal, feeling his gaze linger for a second longer before he mirrored her actions. A sharp exhale left her lips as she attempted to control the heat that'd rushed to her face.

That smirk. Oh sweet Kami.

Yes, he was attractive, and yes, she'd already established this fact – had even felt smug with her ability to remain indifferent toward his appearance. But there were certain things that ought to have been illegal on missing-nin, surely. She would've felt eternally more comfortable if Uchiha Itachi were, for instance, a celebrity or a war hero, in which case she'd have no qualms about ogling him with Ino in her spare time.

She groaned at the direction of her thoughts and gave a mental, vigorous shake of her head before trying to distract herself with her food. It was delicious, and Sakura realized how ravished she'd been.

Peaceful silence settled over them and stretched long after they'd finished eating. Opting for routine, she attempted to draw chakra for her seal but found that she couldn't quite focus. After her enforced and oddly restful sleep for almost a full day, she had nothing but pent-up energy. Searching for a way to occupy herself, she grabbed a stick off the shrub coated ground and began poking at the ashes under the blazing fire. It was then that she saw him stir and reach for his book. Elegant fingers parted and grazed the pages before he paused and began to read.

"What are you reading?"

There was no harm in asking, after all. He threw her a fleeting glance and cocked his head ever so slightly.

"I was under the impression that you already knew," he said, keeping his eyes locked on the page, and although his tone wasn't accusatory at all, Sakura felt as though she'd been caught red-handed. Shifting uneasily, she pursed her lips.

"Well I hardly caught a glimpse," she mumbled defensively. He remained silently reading, so she continued, "And ' _Pre-civilization War Methods and Philosophies_ ' – really? Did they run out of light reads at the bookstore or something?"

Although her sarcasm hadn't been ill-intentioned, when his eyes met hers in a piercing stare, she realized that perhaps he'd perceived her tone as patronizing. His brows scrunched up into the smallest of frowns as he looked at her hesitantly. "This is a light read," he ventured quietly.

Sakura blinked in shock before her brows shot up high on her forehead. Her reaction seemed to snap him back to his senses as he abruptly tensed and straightened, giving a swift blink before attempting to rephrase.

"It is simply a light read for myself, since I happen to have read it previously," he explained, his words trickling quicker than usual as his onyx orbs wandered to the side in a sign of unease, before he continued more slowly, "I am not insinuating that it would be an easy book to read."

Sakura gazed at him searchingly, considering his reaction and the accompanying, seemingly-stoic features. Now that she'd learned to read him, spotting his discomfort came fairly easily. Well, it was no wonder; he'd sounded exceedingly arrogant, though Sakura surmised he was far from it. In fact, it seemed as though sounding as such had made him remarkably uncomfortable, hence the reason why he'd felt the need to explain himself, she reckoned.

She gave a nonchalant shrug in an unconscious effort to put him at ease. "Well it's certainly no romance," she muttered. "Why are you reading it again, then?"

His gaze drifted back to her and a small, odd smile appeared on his features. He seemed almost bashful. "I've only ever come across these series of excerpts in that bookstore. I'd found it to be an intriguing read in the past and decided to indulge myself." He paused, and she sensed his hesitancy as he bowed his head and stared fondly at the book in his hands for a moment, that bashful smile widening ever so slightly. "It's been over three years since I was last able to read," he said, his tone soft, almost wistful.

Of course. Sakura frowned. She'd witnessed first-hand the extent of damage to his eyesight before she'd healed him. Obviously, even Uchiha Itachi didn't use his eyes _only_ for the Sharingan. He was human too, after all. It shouldn't have come as a surprise - then again, she'd never truly perceived him as a person with hobbies and interests before. It sounded like he genuinely enjoyed reading.

An odd sensation creeped into her then. It was thanks to her that his eyesight had improved - that he was able to read once more. Her cheeks warmed involuntarily. Usually she loved the feeling of self-fulfillment that came with helping others – to have the power to offer people something as seemingly rudimentary as eyesight but what was in fact infinitely crucial and life-altering. It filled her with happiness and pride. But it was undoubtedly strange knowing that it was him she'd given this to. Uchiha Itachi.

"You like to read," she voiced her observation, not quite sure what else to say. The alluring smirk was back, and she predicted his next words before they'd even left his mouth.

"You are not so bad at stating the obvious yourself." There was a teasing edge to his tone that rumbled deep within his chest, and once again Sakura's mouth ran dry. She swallowed thickly to compose herself before giving a small roll of her eyes, letting the hint of a smile play across her lips. She drew in her knees and settled her chin on top.

"Yes, I like to read," he said, reverting to his light tone. He gazed down at the book before murmuring, almost to himself, "I find that a page adorned with the written word offers more insight to a man than anything else they could possibly wish for in a lifetime."

She watched him for a moment, her probing gaze studying every inch of his features and posture, before a pink brow perked in curiosity. "Are you undermining the value of experience?" she posed in harmless challenge.

Onyx met emerald. The sudden gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. "It is wise to employ your time in improving yourself by other men's writings so-"

"So that you shall come easily by what others have labored hard for," she said softly, finishing his sentence.

A tranquil silence settled over the two as they regarded one another with equally unreadable expressions. His features slowly morphed into one of amused awe as a fire sparked to light within the depths of his warm onyx pools.

"You read," he announced quietly.

"I do," she said, matching his tone as she gave a timid smile, strangely proud of herself for catching him off guard. "So… Socrates. I guess I'm not surprised."

His smile widened, and her heart skipped a beat when he closed his book and put it aside almost absently, keeping his gaze focused intently on hers the entire time, before leaning forward ever so slightly in a gesture that could only indicate his enthusiasm – one that she imagined matched Naruto's whenever she offered to treat him to Ichiraku's or to Kakashi's following the release of a new Icha Icha novel. She bit her lip to keep from giggling at the abnormality of the scenario.

"You're not surprised?" he asked.

She quirked a brow and gave him a teasing smile. "Well you _do_ sound like the living embodiment of a philosophy textbook – no offence." She shrugged sheepishly. "And you've pretty much admitted to enjoying books that have ' _Philosophy_ ' on the title, so it's not exactly shocking that you'd quote Socrates."

He tipped his head to the side, considering her words for a second, before pursing his lips almost imperceptibly in what she took as acceptance. His eyes never seemed to stop smiling. "What do you like to read?" he asked at long last.

She scrunched up her eyebrows and pouted. "That's hardly a fair question," she grumbled.

His smile widened enough to show teeth, onyx eyes crinkling and disappearing completely. For a heart-stopping moment, Sakura thought he might burst out laughing, and the prospect jerked her insides violently. There was no laughter however – much to her baffling disappointment – but she did detect the faint tremble to his chest and shoulders, which she assumed translated to 'dying of laughter' in the stoic man's language. She relaxed visibly at his rare but easy display of emotion and couldn't do but return it in kind.

"Indeed," he agreed with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

She released what sounded like a nervous huff of laughter before puckering her lips in thought. "Honestly it depends on my mood," she said, tapping her chin with a finger as her gaze drifted skywards in apparent rumination. "I do enjoy medical texts – quite evidently, I suppose – and well," she paused, cheeks flushing as she lowered her head and began fidgeting with one of her boot straps, "Really any romance. Even the soppy ones." She wasn't exactly embarrassed, but it did feel odd sharing her love of romance with the man. "Any decent fiction captivates me too. I also don't mind historical texts." Her head tipped to the side, gaze still locked on her feet. "I find them quite riveting actually - well, depending on the era in question. Some can be downright monotonous," she said, face twisting in distaste. "Books on human psychology I find are also fascinating reads. And well, I suppose anything on war strategy is also quite obvious…" She finally lifted her gaze to catch his infinitely intrigued expression, eyes absorbedly focused on her as if her little rant was the most engrossing speech he'd ever heard.

His head tipped the other way almost comically. "Strategy?" he parroted.

She nodded before finally recovering from the intensity of his gaze and finding her voice. "Yes. I'm a shinobi, it's only natural that I enjoy reading about strategy." She shrugged.

He looked as if he might disagree but remained silent, and Sakura found herself itching for an insight into his thoughts. She fidgeted for a second longer before succumbing to her curiosity. "What about you?"

The corners of his lips tilted upwards. "I enjoy any book written with purpose."

She waited expectantly for him to elaborate. When it became evident he wouldn't be doing so, she quirked a brow.

"That's it? You have no preference?" she asked incredulously.

He mused over her question, and her eyes were drawn to the minimally puckered lips that accompanied his deliberation. "I've enjoyed books from all genres, so I couldn't pick favorites unfortunately. But in terms of areas I've explored the furthest, they'd have to be philosophy and history, closely followed by strategy and politics." He lowered his head ever so slightly, gazing at her from beneath the ebony curtain of his lashes. "And perhaps not due to preference, but as you said, as a shinobi, I found myself spending more of my time on these books."

She wondered if he'd ever spewed so many words all at once.

He spared her a tentative but knowing smile. "Perhaps you will understand that when a good read paves the way to a dozen more, the divides amid individual fields grow more indistinct."

She processed his words carefully, brows drawing in concentration as she sought clarification from her own experiences. "There are not more than five primary colours, yet in combination they produce more hues than can ever be seen."

His smile was simply delighted. "And there are not more than five cardinal tastes, yet in combination they yield more flavours than can ever be tasted."

She bit her lip to keep from grinning. It was odd, but somehow she felt proud of herself for being able to keep up with him. He seemed to enjoy it when she responded in quotes.

He gave another one of his sluggish blinks before suddenly his expression sobered - though the warmth in his gaze was ever-present - and he looked at her as if he was seeing her for the very first time, those intense onyx eyes searching, observing, seeing - so forceful yet so gentle. "What is your rank?" he asked after what seemed to Sakura like an hour of holding her breath.

She gave a mental shake of her head before answering, "I'm a chuunin."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "And yet you've read an ANBU status requirement."

Her brows knitted in puzzlement. "I'm sure most shinobi have read Sun Tzu."

"You'd be surprised," he said, a ghost of a smile touching his pensive features.

Frowning, Sakura thought back to who she knew to have read the book. She suspected that Kakashi-sensei, Yamato-taichou, Sai and her shishou would have read it at some point, though she realized she'd never really asked nor had she ever discussed it with any of them. She'd always assumed that most shinobi would have indulged themselves with such a fulfilling read at some point in their lives; after all, Sun Tzu was one of the most ancient and renowned military strategists of all time. It made sense that his book, _The Art of War_ , was a required read for entering the ANBU, though she hadn't been aware of this fact.

She sighed when she had to grudgingly admit that there was no way Naruto ever would. "I guess it's strange that not everyone would read it," she said. "Then again, most of the content would be quite rudimentary to any capable shinobi. In fact his principle concepts are already covered as part of the Academy's curriculum, and they're recited as largely common sense by the time of graduation."

Again his lips puckered in thought. "The Academy's version of the chapters are… quite simplified, if you'd agree. They've merely skimmed the surface of his teachings and reiterated them as rules to be memorized, which has left little room for analysis."

Sakura found herself nodding along to his words, agreeing with him entirely. "That's true, reading the original is something else entirely. I find that some of his ideas require greater interpretation, and the Academy omits that completely. Some chapters were barely even mentioned," she reflected, meeting his gaze across the fire, and all it took was the sight of those amber flames reflected so perfectly in the pitch black canvas of his eyes and she was served a reminder of who exactly was sitting across from her. The thought was closely followed by the dawning realization of their strange topic of discussion - the Konoha Ninja Academy, the very same school that they'd both attended, with the same hallways and the same classrooms and the same dreams of one day graduating and receiving their own hitai-ate as fully established shinobi of the Leaf. The reminder should have frozen the blood in her veins. It should have made her shrivel in fear. Here she sat across from the most notorious criminal in the history of her village, discussing the education they'd both received - the very same teachings in the ninja arts that'd made them both what they were today; him, an S-rank missing-nin and one of the most dangerous shinobi in the world, and her, a Konoha kunoichi and talented medic-nin in her own right.

But she didn't feel afraid, no. Not at that particular moment. Despite the horrifying realization, she was in awe. They were so different, yet they shared so much together; the same home, the same culture, and once upon a time, the same loyalties. And somehow, in light of that fact, she couldn't do but feel more acquainted with him. More familiar with him.

He continued regarding her with an unreadable expression, entirely unaware of the nature of her thoughts. Slowly his features morphed into one of muted awe as he tipped his head to the side. "When did you read it?"

She blinked, dismissing her intrusive thoughts, before slanting her gaze to the side, trying to remember. "My first time was…I think I'd just entered the Academy. So I was eight."

Genuine confusion flashed across his features. "And yet you still graduated at the allocated time," he probed, tone indicating both a question and a statement. Her brows drew together for a second before she realized he was trying to understand why she'd taken the typical four years to graduate if she'd been so advanced.

Sakura couldn't stop the sudden flare of embarrassment and what she grudgingly recognized as shame from rising in her chest. She averted her eyes, biting her lip. "Well... I was above-average in theory. I must have read more books than my entire class combined in my first few years," she said tentatively, thinking back to the root of the problem. "But I sucked at practical."

She frowned at her feet for a moment until her words properly registered in her ears and her head snapped up in alarm, the shame and the embarrassment and her age-old insecurities slamming back to her ten-fold when she realized just who she'd admitted her weakness to. She stumbled helplessly in her haste to rectify the slip-up. "I mean, I wasn't bad! I never failed or anything. In fact I was second in my entire class, right after Sasu-,"

Her mouth snapped shut and their gazes locked across the fire. He continued to remain entirely stoic, simply listening with no judgement or anger or any other form of expression on his features. The tension left her muscles and she lowered her gaze back to the flames. "Anyway. I was just distracted so I guess I wasn't ready to graduate until I turned twelve."

A short silence stretched between them until he decided to break it. "Distracted?" he asked.

She frowned and glanced at him, inwardly startled that he wished to continue this conversation. Her fingers trailed back to her boot straps to continue their fidgeting. She suspected she'd already said too much, but somehow the conversation had flowed unexpectedly effortlessly and her instincts hadn't cautioned her against it. They still weren't.

"Just distracted," she said with a quick shrug. "I was a young girl. There were other things that held my attention." _Like your brother_ , she added inwardly and cringed, taking a mental pause. It was too easy to forget who she was speaking to.

A small crease appeared between his brows. "Like what?" he pressed. She watched him for a second, her gaze flickering to the tree behind him and back. He seemed genuinely lost.

"You know… things kids do. I mean, there's all sorts of distractions. You were a child once," she said as a means to offer clarity, giving another shrug. The blank stare that greeted her had her wavering, and their eyes remained locked for an aching moment, neither speaking.

Then it dawned on her, slowly and unexpectedly.

He didn't know.

Sakura struggled to swallow, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, but couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from his. She found herself observing the carefully masked features of his face, wondering what was going through his mind. She'd never even considered the possibility before - at least not consciously - yet it was painfully clear.

He'd made ANBU captain at the age of thirteen. He'd been a loyal shinobi to their village up until that point, before he'd massacred his clan. But what had happened in his life that had lead to that moment?

She tried to count the years but found that she couldn't.

"When did you make ANBU?"

Her voice was little more than a whisper in the stretched silence that hung over the two. Neither broke eye contact - neither even blinked. She already knew the answer – she knew everything about him on paper and she suspected he was aware of that fact - yet she found herself seeking confirmation.

He remained utterly impassive for a long time. She could see that he was thinking, perhaps trying to understand why she was asking a question to which she already knew the answer. His gaze bore into hers as intently as ever, as if he too was attempting to decipher her thoughts.

Finally, he yielded. "I was eleven."

Sakura's eyes closed heavily, rupturing their unwavering stare. She let herself digest his answer, thinking, for the first time, that this man was a real person and not merely an overflowing manila file stacked with cold hard facts and dates and numbers and the glaring stamp of " _Wanted_ _Missing-nin_ " in blood colored ink on top. She could recognize then that for anyone to have reached ANBU status at that age, they would have no doubt been obligated to sacrifice their childhood.

"I do not need your pity Haruno-san, so there is no reason for it."

He'd spoken carefully, lightly in that ever-polite tone, but it held an unmistakable air of chill that was a sharp contrast to his earlier warmth. Her shoulders inadvertently tensed. She'd hardly been conscious of the expression on her face. She threw him a fleeting glance as her features twisted bitterly. She hadn't meant to pity him – no one had the right to pity Uchiha Itachi.

"I don't pity you. I never would," she said, bitterness heavy in her voice.

And then she hesitated despite herself. Or did they? Who knew what emotional trauma he'd been through? No normal, sane person would do what he'd done. What if… what if the massacre was truly the result of a mental instability that'd been induced by his hastened training to become a shinobi?

With that thought, she unceremoniously shut down any further deliberations on the subject. Despite the temptation that boiled under her skin, despite all her instincts screaming at her that there was more to this man than met the eye, she couldn't allow herself to probe these unchartered waters. She knew she would lose herself; this wasn't something that could give her one of those clear-cut answers she always sought. No - it was best she waded far and safe from her own dangerous inhibitions.

He didn't comment on her proclamation and instead turned to the book that sat beside him. She followed his movements as he unhurriedly skimmed through the pages and began to read. Before she could rein herself in, the words left her lips. "You still haven't answered my question."

He showed no outward sign of having heard her. His eyes remained locked on the worn pages, thumb grazing the top left corner as he read. It was a few moments later that he quietly replied, "It's a series of excerpts that were assembled due to the high likelihood that they refer to the same historical period, though there's no way to verify this." He paused and glanced at her over his lashes. "Have you heard of the Land of Ancestors?"

She nodded before faltering, tilting her head in confusion. "Isn't that a fictitious country?"

"Some claim so." He held her gaze for a moment before his eyes slid to the side almost self-consciously. "I've attempted to examine the evidence," he said slowly before looking back down at the book with a small frown, seemingly debating with himself.

When he finally met her gaze once more, there was a brief skeptical look in his eyes before his expression cleared. "There are several passages across the five nations and beyond that suggest otherwise." His fingers absently stroked the spine of his book. "Analysing extracts that date back to the same period is a sure means to determine which others belong and which don't," he seemingly mused to himself.

Her brows furrowed into a frown. "So you're trying to identify the pages that don't belong in that book," she said, wondering why he would spend his time doing such a thing.

Again his gaze slanted sideways in what she was recognizing to be unease. "I already have," he confessed.

She grew quiet at that, silently contemplating and studying him all at once. He was stroking the front cover over the book almost reverently. "Why?"

He gave her one of his warm smiles. "It's an incomplete fragment of history and hence a partial stage of our past we are unable to narrate." He paused again, features turning pensive and drastically more somber. "As far as modern civilization has ventured, I believe it is vital that we're aware of our origins - not only to appreciate the progress we've made, but also to track our flaws, which would be impossible without adequate evidence."

Sakura blinked in surprise at the earnest answer. She hadn't been expecting such raw, deep-seated honesty from the man, though from what she'd gotten to know about him, she didn't know what she had expected. A thoughtful frown pulled at her features as she studied him, his impassioned gaze, his posture, his words. For a moment, she recollected everything she'd ever known about the man - or thought she knew - back in Konoha, including the information under restricted files. Then, she allowed the past few weeks to come to mind; she went over every gesture, every action, every spoken word she'd witnessed since she met him. For the first time ever, she let herself disregard her preceding biases and considered the man in front of her in a purely objective manner.

What she discovered, however, left her with an overwhelming array of emotions and conflictions – so much so that, once again, she found herself putting down the shutters on the matter.

His words had been powerful. They were not only exceptionally true, but their implications were also grossly undervalued by most. And for someone like him – a criminal, no less, despite his level of intellect – to have not only grasped this fact, but to also be taking action in the right direction was a reality that stood against everything she abided by.

She carried her gaze back to the fire, visibly deflating. "You're not what I expected," she mumbled almost grudgingly following an impulsive decision to voice her thoughts.

He faltered in her peripheral. Sakura sensed his dark eyes wandering over her features.

"You aren't what I expected either," he murmured somewhat thoughtfully, and his tone drew emerald to onyx. The depth of his gaze coloured her cheeks a light pink, and yet she didn't look away – she couldn't look away – as she lost herself in a pool of warm, liquid velvet.

* * *

A seemingly ordinary boy on due course to becoming a man stood at the main gates of Konohagakure with a small toad perched on his side. The tips of his headband rippled with the breeze as he faced the outskirts of his home village. Two pairs of eyes watched him intently, quiet but expectant.

The blonde ninja turned to face his small farewell party. His heart gave a painful tug at the absence of a certain pink-haired kunoichi. Inhaling deeply, he puffed out his chest and offered the pair a one-eyed cheeky grin, softly flicking the cool metal of his hitai-ate. They nodded in return, and in the next second, a cloud of smoke was all that remained where he'd stood.

The Hokage and Konoha's laziest ninja turned to make their way back to the village, both inwardly wishing him the best of luck.

* * *

 _"The Uchiha Clan… is intent on revolting against Konohagakure."_

 _Itachi's voice rang through the dimly lit room, as blank as it was final. The hollow silence that settled over the four other occupants seemed to stretch for an eternity, both suffocating and telling in its stillness._

 _Danzo was the first to speak. "There's no time to waste. We must strike pre-emptively before they do."_

 _His quick declaration descended a chill over the others._ _Itachi remained kneeling with his head bowed, unable and perhaps unwilling to see the expressions that crossed his village elders' features._

 _"The Uchiha were our comrades in arms in past wars," the Sandaime murmured, his weary tone that of a man who had for far too long carried the burdens of a village. "I would like to use words before violence… I will come up with a way."_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"Stand, Itachi," Danzo ordered._

 _Itachi rose from his bow to face his head of command in the privacy of the man's own quarters. Lightening struck in the background, illuminating the demon-faced statues that circled the pair and beckoning his already-rampaging sense of foreboding to the forefront of his mind._

 _"Despite the Sandaime's words, when push comes to shove, he will do what it takes to protect Konoha," the man said, raising his chin in silent warning. He was daring him to question his words, and he paused to make sure the boy wouldn't be doing so. "Now, Itachi, I want you to choose."_

 _He eyed the Uchiha with a single skeptical eye. "Either align with the Uchiha, launch the coup d'état, and be slaughtered along with your family…" He paused for what could only be effect. Itachi remained entirely stoic and motionless._ _"Or side with Konoha, and before the clan even attempts the coup, eliminate every last Uchiha… except for your younger brother."_

 _He felt his blood freeze in his veins. Full-fledged nausea rippled through Itachi's system, condemning him to a weightless dizziness spurred on by horror and disbelief. "Eliminate the Uchiha…?"_

 _The man spared him no chance to recover. "Every last step must be taken in order to avoid mayhem and protect Konoha. The only person who is capable of completing this mission is you, as a double agent for both the Uchiha and Konoha."_

 _The sudden roar of thunder seemed to mock him. Seemed to reenact the raucous battle that raged uncontrollably within him, leaving him utterly exposed and vulnerable to the unforgiving eyes that were piercing into him._

 _"There is no one else, Itachi. Will you accept this mission?"_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _'The village… The clan…'_

 _'Shinobi…'_

 _Three crows circled high above him, seemingly gracing him with nature's halo. Itachi perched on the highest point of the village, gazing at the peaceful view and basking in the serene atmosphere that rippled through the streets of his home._

 _A war-torn scene flashed before his eyes then, and suddenly he was a four-year-old boy standing at a similar height as he witnessed reality for the very first time._

 _He watched the villagers go about their day and exchange easy smiles and warm greetings._

 _He saw two shinobi lunge across fallen bodies and grapple to the death._

 _An old man behind a corner vendor handed a dango stick to a toothless boy. The child's eyes shone with unconditional happiness._

 _Blood spurted from an artery wound. Itachi couldn't make out the symbol on the hitai-ate._

 _Two mothers stopped for a chat as they rolled their newborns on strollers._

 _An arm messily penetrated the chest of another. An agonizing scream followed._

 _'Is fighting… inevitable?'_

 _._

"So this is… The Great Ninja War."

"This is war, Itachi – it's not a war among people, but a war among nations. That's why strangers kill each other meaninglessly. That is what the shinobi world is. Itachi… Never forget this sight."

"Yes, otousan..."

.

"Shisui-san… Why is there fighting in the world?"

"Who knows… But if there's a way, I want to do everything in my power to stop it."

"Me too…"

 _._

 _'The village. The clan. The village or the clan.'_

 _'What should I do?'_

 _._

"But you must never forget one thing, Itachi; before you are a Konoha ANBU, you are first and foremost Itachi of the Uchiha Clan."

.

A mission is a mission.

.

 _'The clan…'_

 _._

"Otousan, look!"

"What is it, Itachi?"

The boy looked around at the faces gazing admiringly at his father as the two of them strolled down the street of their district. "You're the face of the Uchiha… I'm proud to be able to walk alongside you."

Fugaku smiled. "That's enough flattery… Shall we get your favourite snack on the way home?"

"Hai!"

.

"Itachi, I made your favorite today. Please be back home in time for dinner."

"Yes, kaasan!"

.

"You acquired the Sharingan at age eight. It brings joy to the clan when one of its own excels. Of course, I am very proud of you too."

 _He died, otousan… My friend died… And otousan is…_

.

"You're going to have a little brother or sister, Itachi… You're going to be a big brother!"

"Kaasan, I want a little brother… I have a feeling it's going to be a little brother."

.

"Can I hold him?"

"No."

"Why not?!"

"I don't want him to cry."

.

"Some members of the Police Force are suspicious of you Itachi, and I've been ordered to spy on you."

.

"The clan resents the village. They won't hold back when the time comes."

.

"Listen up, Itachi! If you dare try and betray the clan, don't think you'll get off so easily! You'll pay big time!"

"The clan, the clan, the clan… All you fools think about is the clan! You overestimate your own abilities with no idea of the depth of my own! That's why you're groveling at my feet now. There's no hope left for this pathetic clan."

"Niisan! Please stop!"

 _Watch carefully with those eyes, Sasuke. See for yourself how shallow this clan is._

.

"Itachi… You're my son. Please, save our clan."

.

 _The village…_

 _._

'We had a bond… He was my friend. That's why he protected me.'

.

"Kakashi-taichou... They say that you'd sacrifice a comrade for the success of a mission."

"I'll never let a comrade die, Itachi."

.

"Shisui…"

"Yes, Itachi?"

"About the ANBU…"

"Ah… Did I make the right decision? I won't say yes. I don't even know if there _is_ such a thing as justice in the shinobi world."

.

"As my best friend, you're the only person I can count on. Please protect our village and the honor of the Uchiha name."

.

"Kakashi-taichou, you said that a friend gave you your Sharingan…"

"Yes. Along with a wish."

"...Will you honor that wish?"

"...I intend to."

.

 _'What do I do, Shisui?'_

 _From amid the emotional onslaught crowding his mind, clarity rose and materialized in the form of a face._

 _'Either... Either everyone dies... Or...'_

 _Itachi straightened and leapt from his position. The warm breeze rippled through his hair as his feet carried him across the rooftops with a mind of their own. Within seconds, he found himself perched on a post, gazing down at a small track where two boys raced. The raven-haired child crossed the finish line ahead of the blonde boy and took to ignoring the other's theatrical complaints. Two mobs of pink and blonde hair watched the scene unfold from the sidelines._

.

"It's a boy, Itachi! Here's your little brother."

 _'Life… A new life.'_

.

"There there, Sasuke… It's okay. You got a little scared, huh?"

"Niisan! Welcome home! Play with me, niisan, yes? What'll we play?"

"Niisan! Guess what? My sensei praised me at the academy today!"

"Niisan! You said you'd play with me today!"

"Will you help me train today, niisan?!"

"Kaasan! Niisan is home!"

"But you're never tired, niisan."

"It's okay if you're busy niisan, as long as you can spend time with me every once in a while."

"Welcome home, niisan! I'm going to go train! Come with me."

Flick.

"Ouch…"

.

Itachi gazed down at the young boy who had somehow worked the cat ears over his head and was now burying himself into his older brother's chest. He cuddled the little boy, hugging him with all his might as ceaseless tears spilled from his freshly crimson eyes and poured down his cheeks.

"Will there come a day that you possess these eyes too, Sasuke? A day that you learn what sadness is?"

.

 _Itachi smiled as he watched his little brother cross his arms and turn away from his blonde friend. It would seem that his inner turmoil was unnecessary. He already had his answer._

 _Suddenly, the mob of pink hair turned and gazed searchingly in his direction. Itachi froze, his breath hitching in his throat as the pair of innocent emerald eyes finally found onyx-_

Crimson eyes flickered open to darkness. He lay still for a moment, recovering from the memory-fashioned dream as the hoots of a lone owl rang in the distance. The tremors made an appearance soon after, shooting up his spine and prompting him to sit up as retaining oxygen grew increasingly difficult. A sheen of sweat covered his entire body in a light film and stuck his hair to his face and chest, furthering his sense of suffocation. His searching eyes swept over the clearing to land on the figure tucked into the base of a tree. He watched the soft rise and fall of the cloak just as a gentle breeze brushed over his slicked skin.

The effect was immediate. His insides constricted with an agonizing spasm, as fast and unforgiving as a sneak attack, and he barely had the time to form the hand signs to distance himself before he was doubling over, violent tremors taking a hold of his body as he began to heave and cough uncontrollably. He remained that way, hunched forward on hands and knees for what seemed like hours before finally mustering up the energy to pull himself to his feet. Small water droplets spilled and fell like tears from his eyes, induced by the pressure of his coughs. He glanced at the speckles of blood that stained the earth and his skin through the hazy sheen in his eyes before making his way steadily to the river bank to clear all evidence of his episode.

His condition was deteriorating once again – much more rapidly than ever before. He'd had to stop for the night far earlier than usual, and at this point, Itachi could only hope to resist the side-effects for as long as possible. He had no way of recovering his medication, nor did he have the time to obtain a new batch. He would simply have to manage.

He crouched by the body of water with a soft sigh. In all his years reliving that dream, it had never ended in such a way.

He gave a painful swallow as his fingertips grazed the serene waters. The memory was a vivid one, though not in a particularly bad manner. Although it'd led to the turning point of his life, Itachi didn't care to call it a nightmare. He would never regret the heartwarming, effortless moment when he'd chosen his brother over everything.

He frowned. There had never once been a tweak in his memory. Truthfully, he hadn't even actively noted her presence beside his brother. His eyes had been focused solely on Sasuke. And all the while, she had unknowingly been witnessing the most life-changing moment of Itachi's life.

He cupped a handful of water before taking a slow sip. It was certainly an odd coincidence, though he was likely overthinking it as with most other things. Never would he have imagined the nameless girl from that day to claim a spot in his plans.

He paused. Beads of water dripped down his fingers and cast small ripples over the undisturbed waters.

He had harmed her.

Hunching over, Itachi released the water in his palms. He propped his elbows on his knees and wearily rubbed his wet hands over his face in an uncharacteristic display of frustration, attempting to soothe his lingering rage. It'd been an odd moment of impulse on his part – an unacceptable excuse. He wasn't one to exhibit such uncontrolled episodes – especially physical ones.

Although, he recalled bitterly, she hadn't seemed fazed at all. Itachi's heart gave a small tug at the reality that he was a mere criminal in her eyes and thus any form of violence on his part was likely founded and expected.

Hands dangling over knees, Itachi released his breath on a long, drawn-out sigh before letting his head drop. He had to admit, his decision to include her in his plan had been made on a whim. At the time, he'd had no way of knowing Sasuke's agenda for him. He'd been clueless to a number of things, in fact; he'd had no idea of just what it was that Madara knew about the scroll, what the masked man's grand plans entailed, or even whether the man had any knowledge of the truth behind the massacre - though, he'd always hoped to err on the side of caution when it came to the infamous Uchiha.

As much as he'd been tempted – and had considered on more than a single occasion – to simply destroy the scroll or even to leave it to rot at its hidden location, he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. The sad truth was that its existence was bigger than him - bigger than anyone else, for that matter - a part of the Uchiha legacy, despite their near extinction. Although Itachi vehemently stood against what the stone tablet represented due to the power it held over the Uchiha - which had led many into a power-hungry frenzy and heedless ignorance - he had a suspicion that this scroll was different. For starters, it'd never been revealed before - at least, as far as he knew - and its manner of emergence had hardly been ordinary. Almost as if its very existence was intended to be a secret. After all, if it'd been meant to be found easily, generations of Uchiha would have already gotten their hands on it. This notion had given him pause in his devising a suitable arrangement for the scroll.

But mostly... Shisui had trusted him with it. If nothing else, that alone was enough to make Itachi reconsider and proceed with utmost delicately. He trusted his best friend implicitly. There had to have been a reason for Shisui leading him to the stone tablet, and Itachi was determined to get to the bottom of it for his friend's sake - or to leave it in safe, capable hands that could.

He'd decided to shield it from prying eyes, however, when he'd joined Akatsuki with the intention of surveilling Madara. The scroll couldn't be trusted at such close proximity to the man, especially since Madara had shown a somewhat vague interest in the past...

In any case, this had prevented Itachi from analyzing it to his satisfaction; though, truthfully, an Uchiha scroll that held potential clan secrets hardly had precedence over keeping his village safe. So, after ensuring that it would remain secure, Itachi had focused all his efforts on Madara and, for his own selfish gains, Sasuke. It'd only been a year ago that he, knowing that his impending doom was drawing near, had begun devising backup arrangements for the scroll in case he died before he'd had a chance to unravel Madara's plans.

He'd had limited options just prior to his death. Needing to leave it in someone's care, he'd had no choice but to entrust it to Sasuke. Despite his concerns over his otouto's sense of judgement and his other shortcomings - not to mention skepticism about Sasuke's loyalties to Konoha in the slim chance that he found out about the truth - he'd decided to give his brother the benefit of the doubt and had put his faith into Uzumaki Naruto to ensure that Sasuke remained faithful to their village. And still, he'd been faced with the possibility that Naruto could be captured by the Akatsuki; hence, he'd had to select a separate individual who'd serve as Sasuke's trigger to unlock Itachi's memories. This role had fallen on their third teammate, who Itachi had surmised Sasuke would safely encounter if ever he returned to Konoha as a devoted shinobi.

Evidently, he had grossly underestimated Madara – though in hindsight, Itachi couldn't blame his foresight; the man had been immensely secretive. He'd remained hidden in shadows for many years and had even seemingly granted his leadership to another, until he had finally introduced himself as Tobi and joined their group.

If not the man's cunning, it was surely Itachi's own shortcomings that had resulted in this mess. Itachi had hardly been his most rational self over the past few years. His concern for Sasuke's safety in Orochimaru's clutches, his deteriorating eyesight and not to mention his illness had worn him out until he was but a fraction of the man he used to be. He was aware that the decisions he'd made were not wholly sound, and subsequently, he was paying for his inadequacy.

He began his slow trek back to the sleeping kunoichi and found his thoughts wandering back to his brother. Sensing Sasuke's chakra had kindled the typical longing in his chest. What was his brother doing in this area? Itachi hadn't the faintest clue, but he hoped for an opportunity to speak with him in the near future. Who knew the sorts of warped things Madara had told him? It was likely that Sasuke was feeling utterly confused and lost, not to mention hurt. It upset Itachi greatly that he was unable to offer his otouto some support during this time.

His steps faltered. What would he even say to Sasuke? What _could_ he say? He'd never considered the occurrence of what was sure to be a grueling exchange. He had murdered their family – for one reason or another. The specifics of the truth didn't change the fact that he'd put his brother through indescribable pain. Sasuke's agony had been very much real. Itachi had forced him to chase hatred, to seek darkness. He had tortured his little brother, and there was nothing he could ever say to redeem that fact. In the past, Itachi had attempted to console himself with the reminder that he'd done it all for Sasuke – so that his little brother could live – but the thought had long ceased to provide reassurance. If anything, the reality that Sasuke had walked through hell's doors since Itachi had 'spared' his life was proof enough that whatever he'd thought he was doing for his brother had clearly had the opposite effect.

His heart constricted painfully. No, he had no words to say to his brother. He could only hope that Sasuke somehow found peace within himself and led a happy life henceforth.

* * *

The soft click of his sandals echoed as he trudged further into the dimly-lit cave. The narrow tunnel felt longer than he remembered. Sasuke was wholly exhausted – mentally more so than physically. His supposedly abrupt encounter with his late brother's chakra – along with his old teammate's, of all people – had served as sufficient validation that he was indeed going crazy. Sasuke didn't particularly mind the toll on his mentality – as long as it didn't hinder his efforts for revenge.

When he finally stepped into the cavern, he spotted the sole other occupant leaning against the far wall.

"Madara."

"Sasuke."

He held the man's gaze for a split second before voicing his desire. "Give me Konoha, as you promised."

The man clicked his tongue, and the sound echoed off the rocky walls. "Patience, Sasuke."

Obito pushed off the wall and approached the boy, drawing to a halt a scant distance from him. The pair of Uchiha eyed one another under the crimson glow of their Sharingan for a long, careful moment.

Witnessing eyes, if there'd been any, would assert that the scene was a picture-perfect replica of two villains wordlessly scheming total destruction.

* * *

"He's laying out an exemplary plan for securing victory in war."

"Perhaps on the surface, but his means betray his actual purpose."

"He's simply listing the methods he found to be effective."

"Yet the insight he provides along the way hints at an underlying lesson."

"Yes. A lesson. On war strategy."

"I'm not denying his teachings on strategy."

"But you're denying it as the book's objective! It's a book about war strategy!" The pink-haired kunoichi flailed her arms in exasperation as she leapt onto the next branch. They'd been at it for the entirety of the morning, and as was evident from the sun's position in the sky, they would likely be continuing through the afternoon.

"There may be numerous objectives of a single book, with some being more transparent than others."

She huffed dramatically at the man who ran alongside her. The emergence of his peculiarly stubborn side had been quite startling to say the least, but now, hours later, the fact that he was _still_ refusing to yield was proving to be extremely infuriating. Well, it was too bad for him. Anyone who knew Haruno Sakura would gladly attest to her infamous obstinacy. She never backed out of a fight - especially when said fight was an intellectual dispute.

"His words speak for themselves – ultimately he is providing strategies to help win a war. That's what makes him a genius! He is the first person ever to come up with such simply laid out schemes to ensure victory."

She couldn't even remember how the argument had started. They'd been having a harmless discussion about Sun Tzu and his teachings – a discussion she'd found to be exceedingly gratifying might she add, albeit grudgingly – before the topic of conversation had turned to Sun Tzu's objective in writing _The Art of War_. Sakura had to admit, considering the Uchiha's seemingly thoughtful ways, she would have expected him to submit and politely declare his defeat a long time ago; and yet, he showed no indication of doing so anytime soon, and Sakura was gaining the startling impression that her prediction would have proved accurate for all else but their current debate. He was likely only this adamant when it came to such disputes.

"There is no doubt that his ideas would ensure victory if applied correctly, but to ever seek to understand the underlying implications of his instruction, one has to look past the words."

Sakura scowled at his general direction and felt her irritation surge when she saw him peering at her from the corner of an eye that twinkled with mischief, his countenance wholly relaxed. How was it that he could keep this up? She'd felt the strains on her vocal chords long ago; they were understandably protesting their excessive use after weeks of mostly silence. As a largely withdrawn man, she would suspect that he had to be feeling the same way.

"Yes I'm aware," she practically snapped, "And I believe the word you're looking for is _interpretation_ – interpreting his lessons on strategy, which we've both established is largely feasible in his work."

"Indeed, yet there's numerous levels of interpretation, some being more in depth than others."

"Now we're going around in circles!"

"That may be so."

"Plus that could be said about anything! Everything is plausible if you dig deep enough, and that's how you lose your trail!"

Neither realized that the passion of their argument had driven them to a halt. They stood perched on the same branch facing one another as words bounced back and forth.

"Not if one keeps their sights on the target."

"That's just contradictory! How can you keep your sights on the target when said target is what you're ultimately searching for?!"

"That is not the point."

"Then what is?!"

"There's much that can be learned from what someone says and how they say it if one truly knows the person. In fact, if you're familiar enough, there won't necessarily be the need to hear their words. You will find that you're able to predict their thoughts, what they mean to say, and what they _will_ say even before they do. You'll even come to foresee their actions – simply because you'll know them well enough."

"You're going off topic again."

"Am I?"

"ARGH! Stop doing that!" The frustrated girl took a quick step forward and whacked him on the arm.

.

For a long moment, Itachi was at a loss to react. It seemed that she was entirely unconscious of her aggressive little outlet, however. He observed her flushed face, knitted brows and exaggeratedly puckered lips as she all but glowered at him.

He decided that she looked utterly comical in her current state and gave into his urge to smile.

"We know that he was a war strategist who emerged victorious in countless battles and wars. He is presenting pointers via his experiences!" she insisted with poorly restrained frustration, and their branch visibly shook when she absently, 'lightly' stomped her foot. Itachi wondered idly the extent of damage she'd cause if ever she were to unleash her fury entirely.

He observed her with mirth-filled eyes for a moment. "Were you aware that he was a philosopher?" he asked at long last, deciding to placate the girl by using a different approach.

She folded her arms and cocked a hip. "Yes."

"Then you may be aware that one who identifies as a philosopher, is a philosopher first – even if they hold other titles. Thus, Sun Tzu is a philosopher first, a war strategist second."

Her scowl deepened. "Says who?" she challenged, hands moving to her hips, "And what's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, it's not a factual claim, but it is logical – and a theory I've never had refuted in all my time researching philosophers," he explained. "Whatever it may be that they claim to write about, the attributes of their arguments and the mindset that shapes their work clearly label them as philosophical thinkers first. And as to how this is related to our discussion – if we establish that he is a philosopher first and a war strategist second, it may be easier to deduce his intentions. As well, we must keep in mind that he wouldn't have had a sole objective, but many – though likely a single fundamental one, if we were to delve deeper."

She remained quietly peering at him through the narrowed slits of her eyes, but he could see that she was listening to him, her dimmed emerald eyes growing unfocused as she contemplated the implications of his argument. Slowly her scowl dissolved until it all but disappeared from view.

In the end, all that remained was focused intent and a small frown that accompanied her contemplation. She had a slightly faraway look in her eyes when she finally asked, seemingly musing to herself, "What would you say was his objective then?"

Itachi felt a strange warmth seep into his chest at her open request for his opinion. An unbidden smile played across his lips as she looked up at him with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for his answer.

"To deter people from war."

.

Sakura blinked. He continued looking at her with unmistakable warmth in his eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze before turning to vacate the branch they'd somehow ended up crowding during their quarrel. He followed her movements, seeming to accept this as a truce, and they were soaring through the trees once more.

Could it be? Sakura thought over the book she'd come to memorize, seeking an indication of his assertion. Could a man who'd battled more wars than any other, who'd laid the groundwork for strategy, really be a pacifist at heart? She'd never even considered such a possibility - not that she'd ever had a reason to. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a heated debate about anything - disregarding her habitual disputes over Naruto's choice of diet, of course.

With that thought, she faltered in her step.

Had she…lost?

She blinked, trying to process the unforeseen outcome. Well, that was a first. Granted, her squabbles usually involved petty topics that were really an excuse to one up a certain Yamanaka, but she'd never admitted defeat before. She peered at the silent man running beside her. She supposed it'd helped that he hadn't rubbed it in her face. And really, it hardly felt like a defeat. If anything, delving into these unchartered waters that mandated her meticulous exploration had her feeling oddly exhilarated. She'd never had such an intellectually stimulating argument before and was pleasantly surprised to find adrenaline surging through her system.

She pursed her lips. Sakura was a sucker for information - any she could get her hands on - and she hesitantly welcomed the excitement that came with having found someone who was not only patient, but also willing and able to challenge her.

Truthfully, Sakura had no such presence in her life. Her shishou was a very busy woman - as was expected - and whenever she was fortunate enough to receive the woman's attention, she preferred using it to further her training instead of holding book discussions. Kakashi-sensei was... Well, Kakashi-sensei. Even if she did manage to catch the man in the village by some odd stroke of luck...and even then if he, by another stroke of luck, _didn't_ end up spewing some ridiculous excuse or another before poofing out of existence the moment she opened her mouth to talk about a book that _didn't_ have a man chasing a woman on the cover... Well, she could just imagine how cryptic and frustrating _that_ conversation would go. Shikamaru was a lost cause through and through, and although Sakura believed the lazy boy's intelligence to be far beyond what any of them could imagine, he had absolutely no interest in picking harmless arguments. In fact, it was his custom to run from them. Perhaps Neji came closest to her requirements, but despite having shown improvements over the years, he still made it quite evident that such pastimes were below him.

She heaved a sigh of resignation. That left her with…Uchiha Itachi. At least it somewhat pleased her to see that she was able to keep up with his array of pretty words – words that belonged to an infamous genius who not only outranked her, but also held years of experience and knowledge over her.

Well. Fair was fair. "You're right. I admit defeat," she said with a slight tilt of her head in his direction.

"There are no losing sides in a discussion, Haruno-san."

Her head snapped his way and she gaped at him. _What?_ This entire time, this entire day, he'd perceived their argument – their battle of words, their competing over intellect, their voice-straining squabble – as a mere discussion? She released an infuriated sigh. Of course he had.

"You're weird," she muttered under her breath.

His eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise - a visual cue that'd be lost on anyone who hadn't spent days on end studying his face while being tortured to the brink of their sanity - before he gave two consecutive blinks, seemingly at a loss for words. She couldn't blame him, really. He'd probably never been called weird before. Who in their right mind called Uchiha Itachi weird? And to his face, of all things?

Well, she did apparently.

Said weird man had pursed his lips as if to keep from smiling, but his eyes were well on their way to betray his amusement when suddenly, he vanished.

Sakura almost tripped over her next step before twirling around and skidding backwards to a stop along the next branch. She remained crouched in defence, not moving a single muscle, and waited with her senses on edge. Seconds ticked away with no signs of anyone, and Sakura's puzzlement inevitably grew.

Finally, just short of a minute since his disappearance, he re-emerged before her. Startled and tense, she shot him a wary and expectant look, waiting for an explanation. He remained silent and dispassionately returned her gaze, and just as she opened her mouth to question the odd incident, she noted the tightly pressed line of lips and the darkened shadows under his eyes. They'd grown more apparent since the day before, now tainting his pale complexion in a way that was hard to miss. She met his eyes for a fleeting moment before deciding to keep quiet, sensing his desire to leave the subject unaddressed.

They continued their travels through expansive trees that grew increasingly sparse as they neared the border to the Land of Rivers. At a point during the afternoon, they descended from the canopy and resumed their run along flat ground. They couldn't be more than a day away now, Sakura suspected, and wondered for the umpteenth time what business the Uchiha had in Rivers that had required them to follow such a lengthy trail along the edge of Fire country.

At an abrupt moment just before sunset, he stopped dead in his tracks, and Sakura was left to backtrack to reach him. He embodied a lifeless statue as the easy aura that surrounded them dropped ten degrees, drawing a shiver out of the wary girl. She absently stepped away from the seemingly impassive man, vaguely recalling their first day travelling together when he'd exhibited a similar front whilst collecting his money, which had urged an apology out of him afterwards.

"Zetsu."

Every last drop of Sakura's blood solidified.

That voice… She swallowed the impulse to hyperventilate. Suddenly, she was twelve again – back at the Forest of Death, and back facing Orochimaru.

His voice was utterly petrifying and sustained a deep quality that vibrated from the depths of his chest – such a sharp contrast to his typically soothing tone. She vaguely recalled why she'd been so frightened of him during their initial encounter. The seemingly warm man she'd grown so dangerously accustomed to was long gone, having left an inhumane Akatsuki member in his wake – one who possessed the ability to leave her uncharacteristically terrified with his mere tone.

It took her a moment to register what he'd said as she tried to blink through the haze and terror. It was then that she sensed another presence, and the freshly supplied adrenaline coaxed her into facing the new threat.

The creature materialized over the terrain, and she recognized the Akatsuki member who'd declared Sasuke's victory for Tobi and her team. She realized that the Uchiha's announcement had been directed at the man, likely as a means to draw him out. The abruptness of their encounter suggested that it was an unforeseen meeting, and Sakura fleetingly glanced between the men as they faced one another in the sparse clearing. The unfriendly electricity was palpable.

For a moment, all was silent, and her eyes returned to the infinitely more threatening man beside her. He regarded the man - the plant creature, or whatever it was - coolly with an entirely relaxed posture as if the intruder was but an annoyance – an annoyance he wouldn't refrain from eliminating if he so desired.

"Itachi," Zetsu finally hissed maliciously, and Sakura held her entirely inappropriate urge to snort. His tone sounded wholly delightful compared to the Uchiha's. By no means did he sound pleasant, but it had nothing on the ferocity that emanated from the Uchiha.

"What are you doing here, Zetsu?" he demanded – commanded, really.

"Why have you strayed so far, Itachi?"

Sakura noted the hint of mockery in his tone and decided that the man obviously had a death wish. She saw his gaze flicker to her for a moment, and if was possible, the vicious air beside her spiked to an all-time high.

The Uchiha, after having remained entirely motionless until then, shifted his weight ever so slightly in her direction and gave a tilt of his head as he watched the man before them.

"That is none of your concern," he asserted. Zetsu narrowed his eyes, and the all-compassionate side of Sakura had to resist the urge to scream at the man to flee and demand to know what good reason he could have in tempting an irritated, terrifying Uchiha Itachi.

His eyes turned to glance at her once again – for longer this time – and Sakura's muscles rippled as she clenched her fists through leather gloves, silently daring the man to attack her. In this scenario, he was the less-appealing second dessert next to the extravagant main dish that was her companion.

Before anyone had so much as moved, a fierce, splitting caw shattered the chilling quiet. The man beside her shifted diagonally – forward and towards her – with a seemingly heedless yet deliberate step, and Sakura held the sudden notion that he was attempting to shield her.

Zetsu's eyes narrowed further. "It is Akatsuki's business."

"Leave."

His command should have left no room for argument, and yet Zetsu disregarded it.

"One might call the timing of your defiance oddly curious, Itachi. He won't be pleased."

What followed the end of his threat, however, had Sakura crouch lower into her stance as Zetsu began to grunt and gurgle before them. She watched with widened eyes as the man resisted his need to scream, and she found herself utterly and disturbingly fascinated. The next instant saw the intruder dissolve from view, and all traces of his presence disappeared momentarily until Sakura was given a split second to sense him on her right – the opposite side to the Uchiha – and she struck with the easy agility of a ninja. She was only vaguely aware of her companion moving, and in a scene that unfolded in the blink of an eye, he had gotten uncomfortably close, her fist had grazed a surface, and Zetsu had vanished.

She retracted quickly to absorb the sight. All was calm and quiet as she faced a stoic Uchiha who stood tall and met her gaze unflinchingly. Seconds passed, and Sakura realized that the eerie aura that'd descended over them was only just beginning to disperse – unlike last time when it'd taken a mere doorway for it to all but disappear. She regarded him warily with knitted brows, observing his evident unease that she'd overlooked during the exchange. He didn't seem very happy with the preceding meeting, she deduced, surmising that it was his lingering displeasure that was cause for the heavy air that still hung over them.

"Are you alright?" he asked, though he seemed distracted.

Sakura exhaled lowly at the return of his soft – yet quiet – tenor, slightly taken aback by the question. "Yes," she replied.

He gave a swift nod and turned toward their intended direction. "We are close, but we will lodge at a nearby settlement for the night."

She said nothing and merely followed after him. Seconds trickled by as his subdued mood slowly but surely declined. At least it no longer held the ferocious quality that seemed to leave her shell-shocked, she decided.

Once the excess adrenaline in her system had ebbed away and she found that she could form sound, coherent thoughts, Sakura thought back to the recent exchange. By no means had she expected Akatsuki members to be sociably to one another, but the apparent hostility that'd accompanied the short interchange had left her wary.

Zetsu had said… He had said 'his _defiance_ '. Sakura faltered, almost stumbling in her step. What was that about?

Had the Uchiha defected from the Akatsuki?

The implications of such a possibility left her momentarily baffled as she fought to gather her thoughts. She could plausibly be wrong of course, but Sakura had an inkling that the prospect seemed extremely likely, especially given everything she'd witnessed as of late.

What would this mean? What would it mean for her? For… For Naruto? She swallowed. Was he no longer interested in capturing her friend? Then what was she doing here? Had he fooled her into offering her healing services – that he'd merely utilized once, oddly enough – as she accompanied him on his undisclosed mission that evidently had nothing to do with the Akatsuki?

What was she _doing_ here?

* * *

The waves persisted their unforgiving assault on the rocky shore. What one may have called soft, soothing ripples under the blanket of a serene sunset was nothing to him but a violent, vicious grapple between sea and the defying boulders. The unrelenting clash was an onslaught on his ears, and the piercing yellows, oranges and reds of the sunset were nothing but excruciating to his overflowing eyes.

 _Niisan…_

 _"_ _We only have each other as siblings, Sasuke."_

 _"_ _Even if it's only as an obstacle for you to overcome… I… I will always be there for you."_

 _"_ _Even if you end up hating me – that's what big brothers are for."_

He gazed unseeingly at the scornful horizon as ceaseless tears continued to pour down his cheeks and cloud his vision.

 _"Sorry, Sasuke… There won't be a next time."_

"We are no longer Hebi," he announced over the pounding waters. "From this day onwards, we are Taka."

Behind him, his three companions remained silent, while the only other Uchiha in existence watched the proclamation from afar.

"Taka has but a single goal."

His sole remedy was that it was the end of another day – one less day that Konoha would live to see the sunrise.

"We will destroy Konoha."


	7. Cape

**A/N: Hello! Here's a massive chapter as an apology for this update being almost a week late.**

 **I'd like to dedicate this chapter to the song _Brother_ by Matt Corby. I really recommend giving it a listen! Personally it always stirs my Itachi-Sasuke feels.**

 **Have a good read!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or Matt Corby's songs.**

* * *

 _ **~ More Than Meets The Eye ~**_

 _It was days short of a full moon when he approached his target._

 _He wasn't difficult to locate – he'd had his sights on the man for a while, and although he fit the description of his supposed identity perfectly, Itachi hadn't been so quickly convinced. After weeks of close-trailing, however, he no longer held a reason to doubt his persona – if anything, he preferred to err on the side of caution._

 _"Oi."_

 _The man paused in his steps out of the village. Itachi remained leaning against the tree until he'd turned to face him._

 _"There's something I would like your help with."_

 _._

 _"Such a shame…the Uchiha's demise…the most powerful clan to ever exist. Pity."_

 _He sounded far from regretful. Itachi didn't grant him with a response but continued his perusal of the orange masked man. He remembered their first encounter all too well._

 _The painful memory flashed behind his lids. Spurts of blood. His friend's body suspended in time. A lifeless mass dropping as deadweight._

 _When crimson had tainted his eyes for the very first time._

 _The man looked the same as he had then – the day he'd murdered Itachi's friend, when his eight-year-old self had lost all remnants of his already-stained innocence._

 _"It's too bad they denied reason all those years ago. Our clan...such potential, such history with all its secrets…"_

 _He caught the boy's gaze with a single, blazing Sharingan, and Itachi's thoughts geared into overdrive. There was something…_

 _"I wonder if we've even unravelled all the secrets of the Uchiha… What do you think, Itachi?"_

 _Itachi remained entirely impassive, exposing none of the inner commotion that spiralled uncontrollably within him. "I have no interest in the ancient ploys of a clan that has proved itself weak enough to face extinction."_

 _"Of course, …old clan secrets may become…outdated. But I can't help my curiosity…our roots span over centuries of generations. What of the potential for others? Unearthed secrets…. hypothetical mysteries that no one has yet discovered – and now, never will. Any thoughts, Itachi?"_

 _He knew._

 _Despite his frenzied thoughts, Itachi sustained a clear head as he gauged the threat. He had no way of determining the man's extent of knowledge on the scroll – if he was even aware of it. But how could he be? Itachi had extracted it from the stone tablet himself – unknowingly and unwillingly so – and he held the strong notion that this scroll didn't frequently reveal itself, if at all. And yet, it was evident that the man knew something – and by the look in his eye and his pointed remarks, he was aware of Itachi's involvement on the matter as well._

 _How could that be?_

 _"Such insignificant matters are of no interest to me. It's merely a waste of my time…and I would advise you to never mention it again."_

 _The man's eye flashed in the darkness of the night as the two Uchiha sized each other up over a tense moment. Itachi held his aloof front under his scrutiny; the unspoken threat had been loud and clear._

Back off.

.

.

.

 _It would be a full moon that night._

 _He stared at the young boy through the Academy classroom window. He was positioned in the shadows, in his customary station – he couldn't help but realize he preferred it that way since Shisui's death._

 _His otouto's eyebrows were furrowed in utmost concentration as he wrote vigorously in his notebook, peering at his teacher every other second._

 _Itachi's lips tipped into a small smile. He had no doubt that the boy would become an exceptional shinobi. He would grow to cherish comrades, he would embrace their Will of Fire, he would face hardships, and one day, he would become a fine young man._

 _The boy beside Sasuke nudged him with an elbow, and his otouto scowled at his friend before shuffling away from him. Pride filled Itachi's chest, and a lone tear made its way down his cheek._

Sasuke…

 _If only he could watch it happen._

 _._

 _His bare feet padded softly on warm hardwood as his body hauled him forward of its own accord. He paused in his step when he reached his destination and stalled by the doorframe, peering into the room at a most familiar sight he'd unknowingly yearned to see._

 _"Yes, Itachi?" His mother spoke, keeping her back turned to him as her hands remained occupied with the dishes._

 _"Kaasan," he said in greeting._

 _Mikoto paused. A moment's hesitation lingered before she slowly resumed rinsing the pot in her hands and placed it on the rack. She wiped her fingers on her apron before finally turning to face her son._

 _She smiled at him expectantly, and Itachi wondered if it was his tone that'd set her off. His mother didn't usually take a break from her work._

 _He took silent steps towards her until he stood before the woman. He gazed deep into gleaming onyx – the pair of eyes that both his and Sasuke's had taken after. For an entire minute, they did nothing but stare at one another. His face was unreadable, whereas hers was lit with a warm smile – the kind that made her eyes crinkle. She'd once told him that her eyes and her smile were two among very few traits that he'd adopted from her in appearance._

 _Before Itachi even realized she'd moved, Mikoto had her arms wrapped around her older son._

 _"We love you, Itachi."_

 _He couldn't speak. Something had lodged in his throat, and he seemed to have lost his voice._ _Itachi didn't have the faintest clue how, but in that moment, he was faced with the starling notion that…_

 _…that Uchiha Mikoto knew. That she knew of the proceedings arranged to take place that night, within a short, few hours._

 _He closed his eyes as his mother held him tightly. It'd been a few years since she'd last hugged him, he realized. Not that he minded. Itachi had never been overly fond of physical contact, and although his mother was a very loving woman, she also preferred to display her affection by other means, similar to him. A trait he'd procured from her, his hazy mind realized vaguely. Perhaps she was more accurate in her belief that, although Itachi hadn't taken after her much in appearance, his personality had flourished wholly from hers._

 _He inhaled her scent softly, storing it into memory. Neither seemed to mind the fact that his arms remained by his sides the entire time._

 _It was a few seconds later that his mother pulled back and met his eyes, and he knew then that this single moment would remain with him through the rest of his days._

 _Mikoto's clear, steady eyes held his gaze in a look of unconditional love and pride._

 _._

 _"Tonight is the night."_

 _"Indeed…I shall assist you as promised."_

 _"I'm counting on you," Itachi eyed the man before him. "…Remember my condition; in assisting me and attainting your revenge on the Uchiha, you will spare the village…and my brother."_

 _"Rest assured… I will help you annihilate the Uchiha, because I have…another goal – though I will ask that you turn a blind eye to that."_

 _Itachi's lips thinned. "So I'm not to pry into whatever you're planning?"_

 _"Yes. Then I will guarantee that no harm comes to your brother…I have no use for a child without the Sharingan."_

 _"And that's supposed to assure me?" Itachi demanded in a chilling voice. He inhaled a soft breath to calm his nerves. "At this point, I have no choice but to trust you."_

 _"What will you do after?" the man asked with an all-too-curious tone. "If you need a place, you may join my organization."_

 _Itachi's eyes narrowed to slits. "…Your organization?"_

 _"Indeed..." His single eye glinted dangerously. "I call it the Akatsuki."_

 _._

 _He wore his flak jacket first._

 _He patted down the summoning scroll over the right pocket, confirming its presence – it would be his secret to bare from now on. He removed a small item from the jacket's left side – a folded, tattered photograph. He didn't unfold it for a final time._

 _It set aflame with a quick breath of his lips and was reduced to ashes in seconds._

 _He slipped on his sandals next, followed by his three pouches, and then his arm guards. As he pulled the black gloves over his fingers, he eyed the silver katana that hung so innocently in his locker._

 _He reached for it slowly before faltering. He blinked._

 _His fingers were trembling._

 _Pausing, he stared at the leathered hands that belonged to him. They were spotless and clean._

 _Itachi glimpsed back at the offensive metal. His own reflection stared back at him from the silver blade's gleaming surface._

 _Life… Death…_

 _It was a familiar yet foreign face. And after gazing at it for a second longer, Itachi once again reached for the sword and grasped the hilt – this time with steady fingers and a steady resolve. He gripped his mask and lifted it to his face. When his head finally rose, a pair of Sharingan blazed in the darkness, shining the brightest crimson behind two slits on the pale porcelain._

 _A delicate breeze streamed through a window then, and with it followed a gush of forest-green leaves that glided across the room until they hovered above him for a split second, before swaying gently to the force of gravity and landing on the granite tiles._

 _Itachi crouched low, and leathered fingers reached for a single leaf. He splayed it over his palm, tracing its outline under the crimson of his gaze, before tenderly letting it slip from his fingers._

 _He sheathed his katana, and the piercing scrape of metal resonated within the enclosed walls. A mission was a mission, and it was time Uchiha Itachi of the Leaf completed his final assignment._

* * *

It took him an uncharacteristically long time to settle his disarrayed thoughts. It wasn't often that Itachi harboured such adverse feelings, and the entire notion was irking him to no end.

He was irritated. And not just that; he was irritated beyond reason.

Itachi very rarely felt anger. In fact, it would suffice to say that Itachi never felt angry, except over very few, very justifiable instances. He wouldn't quite say that he was angry at that moment; however, he'd come inexplicably close, and that on its own did not sit right with him.

 _Madara._

Not only had he meddled with his brother – which had found Itachi in one of his moments of justifiable anger – but the man was now having him trailed. By Zetsu, no less. Madara's wish to keep him under tabs hardly surprised him at this point, but Itachi couldn't help but wonder just what it was that the man knew about the scroll – or what he knew at all – that had him so insistent on acquiring it. His relentless methods were merely kindling Itachi's suspicions and feeding flames to his caution.

His jaw tensed as he recalled the incident; Zetsu's unspoken threat had been clear, and Itachi couldn't help the surge of panic that rose against his logic. It would be all too easy for Madara to harm his brother regardless of the man's apparent interest in Sasuke, and even the prospect of such a possibility was enough to paint Itachi's vision red.

What was also unsettling, however, was Zetsu's scrutiny of the kunoichi. He supposed it was suspicious that she was travelling with him, and Itachi wondered Madara's reaction to this piece of information that would no doubt be relayed to him.

He spared her an imperceptible glance. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, and the emerald of her eyes had dimmed to a forest green with her apparent rumination. No doubt she was mulling over the recent exchange, and Itachi wondered what she'd made of the entire scene. She could be quite unpredictable in her assessments.

He frowned. Zetsu's appearance had made her noticeably tense by his side.

It would come as no surprise that Itachi had to retain a disguise when he faced enemies – an uncharacteristic front he kept reserved only for threats. It was something he'd learned the hard way throughout his time as a missing-nin. Arrogant shinobi were substantially more likely to pick fights with a thirteen-year-old boy if he didn't appear at least slightly intimidating. And as he adamantly worked to avoid conflict, he'd had to resort to such a tactic. He supposed it had earned him his vicious reputation across the world of shinobi, and Itachi had always found that fact to be bitterly ironic more than anything.

He'd realized that she seemed increasingly more comfortable with him when they were alone. But when they'd faced Zetsu, he'd had the impression that she was holding her own not just against the Akatsuki member, but also against him. She had every right to be cautious of course, but it bothered him more than he would have expected, perhaps because he'd gotten a glimpse of her real self – when she'd spoken with him like she would with any other, when she hadn't treated him as an enemy. After being on the receiving end of that sort of treatment, a return to the previous had his heart clench painfully. Hopefully she hadn't been too offended by his behaviour.

His eyes narrowed with the recollection of Zetsu's attempt on the kunoichi. It had agitated him more than he cared to admit. He'd almost set aside his elaborately crafted self-control. After all, it was his fault that she was here, and to Itachi, that was a strict translation to her being his responsibility.

Guilt wrapped around his heart. He'd brought her into this chaotic mess, effectively putting her life at risk by doing so. Not only that, but she'd been tormented ever since she'd encountered him. He had threatened Naruto, and he seemed to have given her quite a fright over his brother's life as well. And now, there was a fair chance that he'd lead Madara straight to her trail. His forehead creased in displeasure. She hadn't deserved any of this. More than anything, he had to ensure that she was kept safe.

His eyes lidded over in a lazy blink. The prospect of her being harmed made him uneasy. This was to be expected, he supposed, since she was a loyal Konoha-nin and it was his indirect duty to protect her; and yet, Itachi had the distant notion that it was more than that…

Not that she seemed to need protection, he reminded himself, holding his arm closer under his cloak. She appeared capable of defending herself most of the time. It would hardly be fair to base her strength against his – he seemed to be a bit of an exception, after all.

He pondered over their pleasurable exchange earlier that day. It had been years since he'd last had a discussion over anything as seemingly mundane as books – in fact, he hadn't held such a harmless conversation with anyone since Shisui's death. His cousin had been aware of Itachi's engrossment with philosophy – one that tended to reveal his more… insistent side – and Shisui had been willing to humour him from time to time. It'd been one of the few activities that Itachi had sincerely enjoyed, and he remembered looking forward to their discussions eagerly.

Itachi could easily admit that he'd enjoyed conversing with her. He'd been pleasantly surprised with her apparent interest in reading and had already assembled a mental list of books that he hoped to seek her opinion on. Given her unpredictability, it was bound to turn into an entertaining conversation.

It was well into the evening when he slowed them to a walk by the modest settlement, and Itachi surveyed the familiar sight with satisfaction. Although Zetsu would no longer be on their trail – the crows would see to that, since Itachi had detected the disturbance – he still needed Madara's spy to be far enough before they reached their final destination.

He led them to the sole inn in the vicinity and collected their key as per usual. They stepped into one of five existing rooms, and he made to shrug off his cloak as he peered through the single pane window.

A sharp intake of breath caught his attention. Her wary gaze was on him – on his body. He followed it to his arm, and his brow quirked at the sight.

His shredded black shirt was drenched in a deep maroon, and purple specks littered the small area of exposed skin as arrays of fluid oozed from the entire fragment of his limb.

An exasperated huff withdrew his gaze. She didn't seem overly impressed and was openly scowling at him over crossed arms. He blinked at her apparent displeasure.

"What – you were just going to hide it from me?"

Itachi tipped his head as he mulled over her question. Frankly, he'd been oblivious to the extent of damage she'd inflicted on his arm, given the more pressing matters that had mandated his attention at the time.

"It is no trouble," he found himself saying. Her eyes widened fractionally before narrowing in vexation.

"…Why am I here then, Uchiha?"

Her accusatory tone was enough to indicate that she'd deliberated over the reason and had emerged skeptical. Well, he could hardly blame her. With her level of attentiveness, it was a wonder she hadn't worked it out already.

"I was under the impression that you kept me around for the purpose of exploiting my ability," she probed when he remained silent.

"For my eyes," he attempted to assure her. "My arm did not seem so severe earlier."

Oddly enough, his words seemed to displease her further, as she responded with an exaggerated eye-roll that hauled her head along with the movement and began muttering under her breath – a trail of words that sounded a lot like "men…all the same…damn Uchiha's".

His brows twitched at her reaction, and she pinned him with an unimpressed look.

"I'll heal it – but only because it wasn't intended for you, and I'm a fair fighter," she declared, and Itachi held the faint notion that he wouldn't have a say on the matter. So, he simply gave a swift nod and took a step towards her, waiting for her direction.

Her forehead creased in concern for a moment as she regarded him hesitantly. Then seemingly making up her mind, she beckoned him to the bed.

He settled near the head to provide her with some room, and she joined him in the next instant. With a last furtive glance, she turned her attention to his arm, gingerly raising the limb with the tips of her fingers.

A current shot through his body in response to her gentle-natured touch, and he flinched involuntarily. She quailed at the movement, and emerald clashed with onyx.

"It will hurt – there isn't much I can do about that, but let me know if it becomes unbearable," she offered, having misinterpreted his reaction. He searched her face - the hardened lips and the glazed resolve - and detected traces of red behind glossy emeralds. Registering that his Sharingan had blazed to life on its own accord, he drew back the onyx in lieu of crimson.

It was with tentative gestures that she began to peel away the fabric clinging to him like a second skin. He barely felt the working fingers on his ragged limb. Over the years, his pain threshold had shot through the roof in light of his constant suffering from his illness. Instead, he fixated on her features, watching as focused determination replaced all others. It was an intriguing sight to him, how her entire complexion could shift so drastically when she healed – the way she donned her profession so instinctively, as if it'd become second nature.

"I'll have to rip this off," she notified him as her fingers trailed to the top of his shoulder. He nudged his consent and the material was stripped off of him with a slight tug, leaving a bare arm in its wake.

The shade that graced her cheeks caught his interest, and he grew puzzled at her discomfort. He watched the shaky intake of breath, the firm shake of her head, and finally the glow of healing chakra as green hues reflected over her features.

He glanced at his arm as the familiar tingles brushed over his skin and her chakra penetrated his bodily defences. He supposed the damage did look quite severe. The majority of his limb was marred with shades of purple that were darkening by the minute, and he felt the shattered bones that stirred under her grip. An idle thought occurred to him then. If he'd positioned himself any differently in his attempts to shield her, he could have easily met his demise under her fist. The prospect amused him somehow, and he downed the urge to smirk.

He gradually relaxed under the invasive sensation. He'd felt eerily uncomfortable during their previous session – quite expectedly, since he rarely permitted physical contact of any form – but it wasn't so bad anymore. In fact, as minutes ticked by, he found himself relishing the feeling. Her chakra held a caressing quality; so tender yet insistent – strong-willed and stubborn, even – just like her. Again, it was uncommon for shinobi to hold such gentle attributes to their chakra, and yet the more of her that entered him, the more noticeable she became. He succumbed to the urge to close his eyes as he worked to discern her qualities. Compassion, altruism, tenderness, mercy. And then, obstinacy, fortitude, resilience, attentiveness. His brows furrowed. Itachi couldn't understand how he could detect it all so clearly. Perhaps it was his prior awareness of her that held a certain level of bias.

A soft trickle of breath on his arm led his gaze back to her, and he became aware of her sudden proximity. Her efforts seemed to have drawn her closer, and although her eyes were no longer in his direct line of sight, he found himself drowning in the half-lidded emeralds.

Had they always been so vibrant? All coherent answers to his idle question were lost to him, however, when his attention was abruptly seized by the speckles of gold that littered her emerald irises, glistening like diamonds in a coalfield as they chambered her dark pupils with sunny halos. The flecks were only visible at this length, and he questioned whether such tones were even natural. The girl screamed of color – of all shades imaginable, strangely enough. He wondered whether his inexplicable fascination was a result of his near-blind state over the recent years.

He wished to lean forward and inspect the phenomena further, but he was held back by the notion that such a gesture would not sit right with her. As he battled his urge, he became the abrupt focus of the sources of his debate. He stared back, missing nothing as her pupils shifted and dilated under his gaze.

He wasn't particularly attentive of the time, but he'd imagine that their gazes remained locked for quite a while. It was only when he saw her emeralds darken that he blinked and turned away from her, recognizing the look for one of awed scrutiny – a look she seemed to keep reserved only for his Sharingan.

He glanced at his arm and was startled to see the clean sheet of white that was wrapped snugly around his limb.

"It's done, but you'll have to let it rest for a few days," she mumbled, springing off the bed and dashing for the bathroom in the next instant.

.

She allowed a meek groan to escape her lips under the safe haven of drizzling water. What had just happened? Hastily rubbing her eyes, she willed away the images that lingered behind her lids.

It had all been fine – as fine as the circumstances allowed, at least – until she'd finished her healing and risked a glance at him.

Sighing audibly, she craned her neck to diffuse the traces of tension. Sakura could no longer deny the fact that his eyes – crimson or onyx – seemed to captivate her beyond measure. Perhaps it was the Sharingan's unyielding hold, or maybe the painful resemblance of onyx to Sasuke's eyes; it didn't really matter – all that _did_ matter was that she couldn't afford to lose herself anymore.

She fought the urge to shudder under the scorching water. Not to mention, his fixedly intense stare was hardly helping her matters. At least, she noted feebly, she'd made somewhat of a progress in conducting herself during his bizarre bearings. She no longer flinched under his Sharingan, which was a feat on its own – but with all the assurance that brought, she couldn't help but feel as though she'd advanced two paces only to stumble back one. Why did he have to be such an enigma?

She massaged her scalp as she continued her musings amidst the pleasing stream of lemony-mint. It wasn't as if he was consistently irritating, she supposed. After all, aside from his constant-scrutiny that left her feeling like a medical experiment, he could be quite pleasurable at times.

Her fingers paused their ministrations as she mulled over this thought. Indeed, he did smile quite frequently. And time and time again, she'd found herself immersed in an unmistakably peaceful ambiance that seemed to linger in his wake. It'd merely put her on edge at first, and her ninja senses had struggled to place the suspicious aura. But unlikely as it was, she'd grown used to it over time.

Not to mention, she added mentally, when left to his own devices, the man appeared to be quite content. And now that they were back on speaking terms since she had…. well, _forgiven_ him would be too strong of a word, but perhaps, _dismissed_ would be more appropriate – their previous argument, she reckoned she no longer minded interacting with him. She'd found thrill in their talk, after all – perhaps a little more than she'd care to admit.

A reminder of the latest mystery to his name placed a scowl over her features. If she truly wished to determine his motives, she would need to find out whether or not he'd defected from the Akatsu-

The sudden rush of frigid water wrenched a shrill yelp out of the girl as she leapt from the cubicle and toppled over the ivory tiles. Groaning noisily, she rose to her feet and redressed, rashly slamming the door upon her exit as an exceedingly creative round of curses spilled from her lips shamelessly. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned to humor him with a glare. Her scowl deepened at the unconcealed mirth that shone behind onyx.

"Funny. Let's see if you're still amused after your freezing shower," she glowered. He merely quirked a brow on his way to the bathroom.

"You're supposed to keep that arm dry, you know," she retorted as he walked past her.

He glanced back over his shoulder with his trademark smirking-smile before disappearing behind the door.

She could only scoff after him as she kneaded a towel over her scalp, listening for mutters of protest with idle hope. Sure enough, he'd resurfaced ten minutes later, bearing a dry arm and a cascade of damp hair, having remained entirely muted through the bitter assault. He'd donned a fresh shirt in lieu of his torn one, a black top that dipped lower on his neck and called attention to his silver necklace. Her gaze lingered longer than was necessary on the freshly exposed skin, her eyes trailing the defined ripples of his neck and shoulder muscles, before a frustrated sigh escaped her lips. With a last shake of her short locks to free excess droplets, she followed him outside for their customary dinner.

Soft tunes greeted them as they descended the stairs, and Sakura peered across a set of double doors at a lone bar. Right. They'd opted out of a lasting hot water supply but hadn't omitted the liquor.

It was bright outside despite the shortage of street lamps. A smile nudged at her features as she glanced up at the clear blanket; it was a full moon. It hung over the pair, embraced in a perfectly silver halo and illuminated their stretch of road. She saw him falter visibly when he noted the lunar shape before coming to a complete halt. He peered at her from the corner of his eye, and she cocked a brow in question. Oddly enough, he appeared hesitant as his eyes flickered back and forth between the deserted road and her face.

"Do you like…dango?"

She blinked once at his apprehensive tone, and a few more times at his question.

"…You mean the sweet?"

He seemed to tense further at her needless request for clarification, and she didn't miss the fleeting uncertainty that was quickly lost to his poker face.

"Yes," he replied a full minute later, seemingly having decided to humor her.

She assessed his discomfort with curiosity, finding herself easily amused with the entire scenario. He appeared to be expecting an answer before any further exchange, however, and she made the momentary decision to prolong this peculiar moment to her desire.

"Hmmm…" she tapped her chin with a finger, making an elaborate gesture of pondering over her answer. Her eyes wandered across the sky, then up and down the street, before catching his gaze once more. All traces of his doubt seemed to have vanished, and he was regarding her expectantly with a single raised brow.

She fought the urge to smirk, instead concluded her little game just as her stomach grumbled in protest.

"Yes," she announced with an air of assured finality that exposed her prior deliberation for the act that it was.

He maintained an impassive front for a moment longer before his eyes drooped midway and the corner of his lips tipped into a half smile. Her breath hitched slightly at his show of what could only be his "ha-ha very funny" face, though it looked exceedingly courteous and somewhat good-natured, giving her the impression that it could also be his "you got me" face – a feat only he would be capable of pulling off, no doubt. For a moment, she struggled to tear her eyes away from his features as he led them to the neighboring street – the only other street in the tiny settlement.

They entered a modest tea shop with two vacant tables, a glass stall, and one of the most extravagantly rich aromas Sakura had ever come across. Mouth immediately watering, she smiled eagerly at the kind-eyed woman with deep wrinkles to her features that revealed her age.

The woman's eyes travelled over the pair fleetingly before sparking in recognition.

"Boy! It's been a while – I was beginning to think you'd never return!"

Sakura reeled, gaze flickering between the two in unconcealed surprise.

"Good evening, Chiya-sama," he greeted in a gentle lilt she'd never heard from him before offering her a deep bow. "It would be rude of me to not return and have to forgo your specialty."

"Ohh, my boy," she smiled kindly at him, giving a faint shake of her head. "As far as I can tell, you could never be rude. What was your name? Forgive me for not remembering, my age does tend to fool me I'm afraid."

His eyes crinkled completely. "My name is Itachi. And the wisdom and experience your age brings are invaluable to the likes of us, Chiya-sama."

"Ah! Itachi-kun! Yes, I remember now – my boy, you're truly too kind."

Her smile landed on her, and Sakura found herself responding in kind.

"And who is your friend, Itachi-kun?"

He glanced at her briefly, his eyes still warm, before turning back to the woman.

"This is Sakura. She is my companion."

"Very nice to meet you, Sakura dear. I'm Chiya."

Sakura tried her hardest to retain a smile while her insides jerked violently. It was the second time he'd spoken her name, and the first time she'd ever seen him do it. It was strange, watching his tongue roll over each syllable in rich, full tones and trickle free from his lips. The responding shiver that rippled through her body carried none of the chilling quality she'd have expected, but a mere sense of muffled anticipation at hearing her name escape the lips of the man of her nightmares.

"Pleasure is all mine, Chiya-sama." She recollected herself long enough to execute a courteous bow.

"Now," Chiya-sama shuffled towards the stall. "What can I get you two today?"

"Mitarashi and Goma dango for me, please," he replied right away, and Sakura did a double take at his poorly restrained demeanor.

"Hanami dango for me," she added after him, realizing that it was the first time he'd made his own order instead of having whatever she'd requested.

"Coming right up," Chiya-sama beamed before pausing to pin a contemplative gaze on her companion. A moment later, her face lit up in recollection. "Ah yes! Goma dango. Your brother's favorite, isn't it? I remember – it is my favorite as well. He has good taste, your brother," she nodded to herself.

Sakura's brows creased in confusion, and for a moment she wondered whether a third party had entered the shop and the woman was speaking to them instead. But upon noticing the hardened onyx and pressed lips beneath his impassive features, her eyes widened in horror and she gaped at him.

He remained quiet as Sakura stared at him in utter bafflement until Chiya-sama's face rose over the dango and looked at him expectantly, offering him another smile.

"Yes…" he replied softly with a slight strain to his voice. "It is the only one he eats."

Sakura had the sudden urge to question whether Sasuke had any other brothers she'd somehow overlooked. Brows furrowing with concern, she turned away from him, her wild thoughts settling long enough to let her think.

It wasn't a big deal, she assured herself. Of course, he had to know many things about Sasuke – things that even her and Naruto didn't. And it was plausible that Sasuke had been mentioned in passing, though Sakura couldn't understand how an elderly lady who'd struggled to even remember his name had managed to recall such a trivial detail about his brother.

"Here you go my dears!"

They each collected their own orders before he led them to one of the two tables. She kept her gaze locked on him and gauged his every move, holding him in close surveillance in the chance that he was hiding the answers to his mysteries beneath his elaborately-molded façade.

His prior discomfort had all but disappeared, and the uncharacteristic gleam returned to his eye as he gazed down at his food. Her own dessert remained untouched as she fixated on the man, watching him grip the end of a skewer and lift the dango to his lips almost hurriedly, onyx orbs never once wavering in their purpose. Just before the rounded edge reached his mouth, his tongue swept his upper lip in a seemingly absent gesture, and then the smooth surface had met his lips in a soft nuzzle. She felt helplessly transfixed as her gaze followed his lips; they parted and molded over the curvature, his tongue darting out to flick over the soft texture before his teeth grazed its surface and bit into the edge, swiftly sucking the mouthful into his moist cavern. His brows furrowed in concentration as half-lidded eyes shut in blissful contentment. At long last, he started chewing.

A meek sound escaped her lips then, and Sakura quickly snapped her mouth shut before averting her gaze elsewhere – anywhere that wasn't him – as she attempted to moisten her mouth. Seizing her own portion, she swiftly took a bite to occupy herself, faltering soon afterwards.

She stared at the dango in her grip. It was delicious.

She whipped her eyes back to him to voice her opinion but paused when she noted his ongoing preoccupation with his share. His face had scrunched up minimally as he worked to savor every last sensation and prolong the delightful moment. Sakura saw traces of a young boy fleet across his features, and in that moment for the very first time, he looked his age despite the masculine edges that framed his face – younger, even.

She saw signs of onyx as his eyes fluttered and slowly parted. He appeared to finally sense his audience then, as his lids rose fully, and he paused mid-chew to meet her gaze, quirking a questioning eyebrow in her direction.

Sakura couldn't help it. Swiftly shielding the lower part of her face from view, she relinquished an amused smile, hoping it wasn't overly obvious. He was still staring at her, seemingly frozen as his latest bite paused its stirring and formed a perfectly rounded protrusion over his right cheek.

She palmed her forehead as soft tremors shook her shoulders, yet she remained adamant on keeping her lips locked to contain the outburst.

Uchiha Itachi…and dango. It was surreal. Really, who would have thought? Inhaling deeply, she chased away images of Akatsuki initiating a social outing to the local dango shop.

"This is very good," she supplied to deter her intrusive thoughts and took another bite. He'd resumed his chewing by this point and swallowed quickly before answering.

"Chiya-sama is one of a kind," he smiled. "I find that she's among the few who possess this talent across the nations."

"Really? I wouldn't be surprised. This is the best dango I've ever had," she said between bites.

His eyes glinted in amusement as he watched her finish her meal, and Sakura wondered whether she ought to comment over the less-than nutritious state of their dinner. He took his last bite of the Goma dango – the only one Sasuke ate, apparently – and they were done.

When Chiya-sama emerged from the adjoining room, they rose to their feet.

"It was wonderful, Chiya-sama. The best I've had," Sakura spoke first as they approached her. "Arigatou gozaimasu."

The woman's eyes crinkled. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, my dear. You should visit more often too! Has Itachi-kun ever brought you here before?"

"No, It…Ita- he never has."

Sakura clenched her fists. She couldn't do it – she wouldn't do it. Saying his name would be humanizing him completely – certainly more so than she had already.

…Even though the name hardly sounded like an omen at this point. Not when this kind woman was referring to him like that.

"Well then, Itachi-kun, please be sure to bring the lovely Sakura-chan back some time. And your brother too! I'd love to meet him."

Her breath caught in her throat, and a novel sensation flickered to life within her. It wasn't the rational fury, nor the wary perplexity.

It was sorrow. And it squeezed her heart painfully as Sasuke's face flashed across her mind.

"Arigatou gozaimasu, Chiya-sama…" he said nothing further on the matter, and they bid their farewells before turning to leave. His face was a perfectly crafted canvas; empty, and any traces of emotion simply absent – except for his eyes, which shone like black diamonds as an array of foreign sensations swirled in their depths.

Her eyes glazed over in thought as they silently retraced their steps. Her mind was in raucous disarray – she couldn't understand him, and at this point, she truly craved to. Pursing her lips, she gazed at the shroud of mist that was descending over the blanket of dusted shimmers, imagining her shishou scowling down at her through the lazy haze. Sakura had quite a bit of reflecting to do, and as her master had so eloquently taught her, in times of distress, there was but one solution to all her problems.

She needed a drink.

* * *

Two brothers: bound by blood without choice, parted by fate without justification.

Two hearts that beat to a single rhythm – a pulse that echoes the same melody over any span of distance or time.

It was an unlikely stroke of luck that held both brothers in that exact moment in time; both reflecting, both taken by their thoughts – only at different locations. Perhaps it was their fate's whisper of an apology. Perhaps it was their blood's murmur of gratitude. Either way, it brought them closer – closer than ever before – in mind, in heart, and in thought.

It was a full moon: the younger brother's first full moon since his eyes had opened to his brother's; the older brother's first full moon since the truth to his name had been unveiled. But above all, it was the first full moon that _both_ brothers would acknowledge and welcome – a shortcoming due to one's physical inability to see, and the other's physical inability to look. And yet, although they were _looking_ eye to eye for the first time, they were far from _seeing_ eye to eye.

It was a wonder that the younger brother had found himself settled over the rocky terrain, bathing in the mystical lunar glow as he gazed into the silver abyss. It wasn't as startling that the older brother had found himself perched in the canopy, absorbing the night sun's radiance as it caressed the stretch of earth before him.

And it wasn't surprising at all that both brothers' minds were taken by the same night in their memories – only from opposing sides.

.

 _His steps were muted – lost to an abyssal silence that shrouded over the village as he paced to the district. He was one with the shadows._

.

 _His steps were hasty, obtrusive, and urgent as he rushed along dimly lit streets toward his home. He was late._

 _._

 _His heart beat to a casual rhythm - too casual that it almost felt forced - as a sense of foreboding fought to shake him to his very core._

 _._

 _His heart paced rapidly along to his quick jog, but it was full and warm as a sense of eagerness gently trickled through him - he would be home to see his kaasan and niisan soon._

.

 _He stopped before the entrance. A mere shinobi: one of hundreds of thousands. Just another soldier, moments from completing just another mission in the name of his village._

 _The drapes flapped to the breeze, and with them rippled the two sinister emblems that seemingly fanned the skies as their namesake. He didn't spare them a second glance as he crossed the threshold with resolute strides._

 _There was no need for a plan – there was no amount of thinking involved in his barging into the first house of the civilian populace. He was no longer Itachi, but an empty shell, a weapon, a means for another check beside a mission scroll._

 _There was no feeling, no thinking as he slid his katana across the throat of a nameless vessel for his first kill of the night. His Sharingan – more an omen than a blessing – absorbed each detail and stored it away as ammunition for his nightmares; the glint of the blade as it rose, the initial moment of shock on the victim's face before fear prevailed, the perfect angling of the silver edge against the throat, a sharp, resolute tug of his arm, and the swift, clean split of soft skin – first a hollow slit in the milliseconds that the body tried to comprehend, to accommodate, before murky blood gushed from a severed artery. It was never the gore that haunted his sleeping hours, but rather the look in his victim's eye as reality dawned, and their life flashed before their eyes – it was almost always their regrets._

 _Following the first spill, he yanked the porcelain mask off his face and stripped his hands bare of the leather gloves; he did this entirely unconsciously, for reasons he'd never know. Perhaps his conscience refused to let him hide behind a mask, or maybe he believed that he owed it to his victims to show his face. He would never know._

 _Second, third, fourth spill._

 _And then others followed._

 _Again._

 _Again._

 _Again._

Sasuke.

 _The first spatters of crimson marred his face._

 _Again._

 _Again._

For Sasuke…

 _Again._

 _Blood spurted._

 _Gurgling, wheezing, rupturing._

 _Screaming. Begging._

 _Again._

For Konoha.

 _Again._

 _Throat after throat – clean kills: a single slit of the artery._

 _And yet some were arduous; those were the messier kills._

 _Again._

For the innocent.

 _Again._

For all children of the Leaf, both present and future, who would be stripped of their childhood with another Shinobi World War. Just as he had been.

Again.

Again.

 _Dozens passed under his hands, one after the other like cattle in a slaughterhouse – yet he was entirely detached._

 _He didn't feel the sweat of his brow blending with the thick, maroon fluid. He didn't see his victims' tears tarnishing his uniform, adding to the blood stains with every drop._

 _Again._

 _He had no sense of the shades of red that coated his face – paid no heed to the scarlet droplets that dripped from his chin. He didn't taste the blood that seeped through his tight-pressed lips._

 _He was both there and not._

 _He was an outside force, gazing down at the distantly familiar physique of a thirteen-year-old – a boy spilling innocent blood, drowning in innocent blood. His pulse was steady, heart beating to a casual rhythm._

 _And yet, the hilt burned beneath his own fingers. He felt every surface that his blade pierced across, through, and over. He saw the life drain from their eyes – the lives that he took for himself._

 _He only stopped near the end of the street, when his path was obstructed by a most familiar man._

 _"Itachi."_

 _The two pairs of crimson clashed – father and son, the head and the heir – surrounded by their seemingly protective walls carved with their honorable fan, now crumbling in their shame in the wake of their selfish acts. They'd chosen to fan the flames of destruction rather than smother the sparks, all for the sake of kindling their power – and were now paying the price dearly._

 _"What reason lies behind this slaughter?" His father's voice was firm, steady, and authoritative – as it always had been. "Are you going to show me a different future from the one I showed you?"_

 _Itachi wiped blood out of his eyes with a swift rub of his hand, heedlessly clearing the thick droplets that dribbled down his lashes and obscured his vision. When the reds of his orbs were revealed, his Sharingan had morphed into Mangekyou with the promise of a path that his clan had refused to consider._

 _"Yes…" He met his father's gaze. "This."_

 _And Itachi showed him the sole possible future in which both the Uchiha name and their village would remain untainted. The only future that would allow Itachi to keep his promise to his best friend..._

 _._

 _Sasuke fixated on the distant whites and reds of the fans that always welcomed him home. Maybe his niisan wouldn't have a mission tonight and he would get to spend some time with him. It never ceased to warm his chest, knowing that he would soon see his niisan and kaasan – and perhaps his tousan would ask him about the Academy today._

 _"I'm so late…" he worriedly repeated to himself._

 _._

 _"That is the future I see for the village…and the clan."_

 _"I see…" his father said quietly as the crimson bled away from his eyes. "Sasuke, hm…?" he whispered to himself, before a burst of smoke was all that remained in his wake._

 _Itachi's grip on his katana tightened._

'Tousan is my greatest opponent…' _he chanted to himself as his hands incessantly wiped the remaining crimson smears off his face._ 'This will be a battle of the Mangekyou…'

 _Following Shisui's death, Fugaku became the sole other – albeit discreetly – possessor of the Mangekyou Sharingan, and if there was anyone alive who posed a viable threat to Itachi in battle, it was him._

 _For the first time since he'd entered the district, he heard his heart stumble in its rhythm as he concealed himself along the shadowed walls of his home. He moved lithely through the familiar rooms, his ninja treads as silent and fluid as of the most elite in his profession as he searched for the obstacle that stood between him and the successful completion of his mission._

 _Uchiha Fugaku._

 _He crossed the main room – along the terrace where his father had handed him his first kunai. He creeped along the kitchen – past the counter where his mother had taught him to cook so he could fend for himself during missions. He passed the leisure room – over the tatami mats where Sasuke had leapt into his niisan's arms after taking his very first steps._

 _"Over here."_

 _Itachi's breath hitched in his throat._

 _"There are no traps," his father's voice sounded again from the back room. "Come inside."_

 _He took his final steps towards the door that stood slightly ajar. As his fingertips nudged it further, the same quiet creak that'd always accompanied the motion reached his ears._

 _The sight that greeted him was almost enough to demolish the last fragments of his resolve – one he had so prudently and arduously gathered._

 _"…Tousan," he choked as he stared, momentarily shell-shocked, at the outlines of his parents under the filtered moonlight – his unarmed, defenseless, and wholly calm kaasan and tousan in their state of complete surrender._

Sasuke…

 _"I refuse to face my son in a deathmatch…"_

 _Something shattered and crumbled inside him then, and Itachi could hardly drag his lead-heavy feet into the room. His katana clinked as he tightened his grip, but instead of drawing a sense of foreboding, the sound merely jolted him in his skin – the two who were to meet their demise under its blade remained entirely indifferent._

 _"So…You've aligned with the other side."_

 _Itachi wanted to scream. He wanted to flip the katana on himself. He wanted to tell them that there were no real sides to this. He wanted to say that they were his parents, and he'd never side against them unless there was no other way, unless the situation was so hopelessly despairing. He wanted to say that he was loyal to them… That, despite his opinion of their clan, he'd always be loyal to them. To his parents._

 _His lips parted to speak the words that would never come._

 _"…Tousan…Kaasan…I…"_

 _"We already know, Itachi."_

 _Every last drop of air burst from his lungs in a large gush of breath with his mother's words, and his shoulders sagged in defeat. He caught a partial glimpse of her side profile – her straightened spine, raised chin, and fearless features – so gracefully poised as she awaited death by her son's hand. And he felt it; the soft, motherly embrace of her words, reminding him of their exchange from hours earlier. Her peacefully serene aura beckoned him, wrapping him in its safety and whispering words of encouragement, courage, and love._

 _Itachi relished in her love – clung to it like a starved child – but it was not enough to lull the grief. Not even a little bit._

 _"Itachi…Promise me this."_

 _He swallowed the lump that seemed to be forever latched in his throat._

 _"Take care of Sasuke."_

For Sasuke…

 _Amidst the oncoming tremors that consumed his body, Itachi's lips gave way to an imperceptible smile at his father's words. Despite their near-constant disagreement over any and every matter, Sasuke's wellbeing taking precedence over all others would be the one and only – and the most important – reality that they would ever agree on._

 _"I will." His vow was a mere whisper, but the weight of this lifelong obligation settled over his shoulders almost perceptibly – a load he would take to his grave and would not – could not – fail to fulfill under any circumstances._

 _The next heartbeat saw Itachi's grip tighten unbearably. It was time, but the tremors were yet to stop escalating, and soon, he'd relinquished all control over himself. The inconsolable sobs that tore from his throat were a distant reality, and his terror-stricken, adrenaline-coaxed mind only fueled the fires of his trauma._

 _"Do not fear it," his father commanded._

 _He tried to bite down his whimpers._

Sasuke. Konoha.

 _"This is the path you've chosen. Compared to yours, our pain will end in an instant."_

 _His mouth parted in a choked cry – half silent, half shrill._

For Sasuke. For Konoha. For the innocent. To prevent another war.

 _"Our philosophies may differ, but I'm proud of you."_

For Sasuke…For the children who are yet to be born.

 _"You truly are a kind child."_

FOR SASUKE!

 _The indistinct blend of a battle cry, an agonizing scream, and a splitting wail tore through his throat as the blade descended, and the deed of a measly, passing second had fouled his conscience for all eternity – an unspeakable sin that condoned no pardon, no forgiveness. Only punishment._

 _The ensuing seconds, minutes, or maybe hours passed in blurs. Itachi only faintly recalled swaying on his feet, donning his mask, and taking to the streets to claim the remaining lives._

 _By the time he'd landed before the masked man, he felt calm – too calm – and whispers of his enfeebled rationality informed him that he was in shock._

 _"It's over," the man announced with a slanted glance in his direction before visibly faltering. "You're…"_

 _He stared at Itachi's porcelain veiled features, seemingly coming to a realization. "Never mind," he turned away from the younger boy. "Shall we go?"_

 _"You go ahead." Itachi heard his own words, yet nothing was registering in his hazy mind. "I have some things to address with the village elders."_

 _And then he was alone. Solitude granted him a measly moment of relief, and he let himself go, collapsing to his knees in a broken heap. All the shock, the trauma, and the numbness that'd swallowed him whole were not enough to repress the heart-rending, gut-wrenching grief that was seeping to the surface through invisible cracks. And even that couldn't repress the self-hatred that rose above all else._

 _It was then that he had an awakening; despite his good intentions to pursue peace, cease all fighting, and mend their world, his crime was one that could not be condoned – and Itachi pledged to be punished for his heinous offense._

 _Sasuke's face materialized from his conscience – his otouto with his enormous heart, untainted innocence, and boundless potential. The boy whom the Uchiha clan – and Itachi – would continue to live through. The one who'd prosper and lead them to a better future._

 _And he knew then that it had to be Sasuke to punish him for his sins._

 _._

 _The young boy finally reached the entrance and rushed past the flapping drapes into the district._

 _._

 _He was crouched low on a pole, behind him the luminous glow of a halo that dominated the night sky, when he spotted his brother entering the district. He lingered, his lengthy locks flailing to the nightly breeze as he watched his otouto – until the boy glanced in his direction._

 _._

 _The patters of feet on cement resonated as he entered the eerily quiet streets. The odd ambiance didn't seem to faze him – until he found himself freezing almost instinctively, and a chill descended his spine. His eyes were drawn to the distance – to a perfectly spherical full moon that bathed all else in shadowy silhouettes._

'What was that…?' _he questioned the strange prickling of his instincts – the very same ones that'd called his gaze to the skies._

'I thought…I sensed someone just now.' _And yet, there was no one in the vicinity – merely the stretch of indistinct rooftops and a single pole that stood tall in the middle of the district._

 _Sasuke's gaze wandered back to his path, and that's when it hit him._

 _._

 _His steps were labored as he returned to his house. He found safe haven in the dark shadows within, and his eyes travelled over the two heaps of bodies before him. He paused when he found a semblance of comfort, and his unwavering gaze fixated on the lifeless depths of his mother's onyx orbs as he waited for his brother._

 _._

'The lights…the silence…it's not even close to bedtime…' _Alarms buzzed in Sasuke's head as he slowed his pace, but it was when he rounded the corner that the first prickles of fear descended over him._

 _It looked like a battle scene had gently swept the streets of his home district. There were signs of struggle, and yet not nearly as much as there should have been considering the piercing silence._

 _He dashed forward, his heart pounding in his chest as he sprinted as fast as his short legs would carry him._

What's going on…? What is this?

 _Blood… Shattered windows… The quiet._

 _And then he saw the corpses._

 _"…Aunt…Uncle…"_

 _Terror washed over him, instigating bone-chilling shivers that pulsed through his body. But it was nothing on the dread that followed, slow and resolute in its creeping, as he drowned in a new kind of worry. "…Kaasan! …Tousan!" He swallowed a cry and stumbled back, racing to his home with nauseating panic._

 _In a way, the boy knew. The rational side of his brain – his shinobi-in-the-making instincts – told him his mother and father were likely in no better condition. But the voice of reason was too quiet in his terror-stricken state. Above all else, he was a small, eight-year-old boy who couldn't yet imagine the possibility of his parents being harmed. And so, it was with unjustified hope that he yanked open the sliding door to his home and dashed inside._

 _The lifeless silence that greeted him had never felt so suffocating. He wandered on quivering toes, afraid to disturb the eerie surroundings. He checked the kitchen first, finding his kaasan's spot before the sink as vacant as the streets. It was a scene from a childish, meaningless nightmare, but the longer he searched his home, the more reality seemed to dawn on him._

 _._

 _With each of his otouto's frightened, hushed steps drawing a little closer, Itachi's heart pounded that much harder against his ribcage. He braced himself to shatter the boy's innocence, taint the memories of a loving niisan, and coat them in betrayal and hatred._

 _It was better that he got this over quickly; so he took a heavy, deliberate step forward, drawing his brother to the reality that would change his life forever._

 _._

 _It was then that a thud reached his ears, and before he knew it, Sasuke was dashing toward the sound, all efforts to remain discreet quickly forgotten. He approached the door on shaky legs, but before his fingers could brush wood, his senses shot through the roof and a frantic episode of hyperventilation swallowed him whole._

There's…There's somebody in there…

 _._

 _Itachi sensed his brother's erratic pulse, labored breaths, and his frail fight for courage. He repressed his instincts that called for his protection, wanting nothing more than to shield his brother from the ugly swarm of his emotions. But all he could do was stand still, wait, and endure the taste of bitter anguish that lingered on his tongue._

 _._

 _His lungs fought for air as beads of sweat poured down his face, and it was all he could do to maintain his control over his bladder. He desperately attempted to return to his senses._

Move.

 _He was training to become a shinobi… He could confront the intruder, couldn't he?_

 _There wasn't enough oxygen in the vicinity. He was suffocating._

Move…

 _His clammy fingers trembled along to the tremors in his body._

MOVE!

 _It was adrenaline spiked from within his fear-warped haze that granted functionality to his muscles, and he could finally slide open the double doors._

 _._

 _Itachi braced himself for the hardest confrontation of his life. Despite his years spent training, he doubted anything could have prepared him for this moment in time._

 _._

 _"Tousan…! Kaasan!" He saw his parents' bodies, haphazardly stacked on top of one another over a puddle of what could only be their own blood, still visibly warm and fresh. And yet, Sasuke couldn't quite absorb the scene – not when warnings of danger resonated so insistently in his head._

 _He felt more than he saw the shadow, predatory and deadly in its presence, as it advanced into the light toward him._

 _._

 _Steady strides brought him forward, and he wondered whether the pounding of his heart would give away his truth._

 _._

 _Sasuke's senses were urging him to flee, but when the figure grew clearer over the silver floorboards, he felt the first prickles of hesitation._

 _They were familiar… He knew that attire…_

 _._

 _Itachi came to a halt, awaiting the inevitable moment of recognition._

 _._

 _The man was facing the window, and Sasuke fleetingly questioned if he was even aware of his presence. His eyes searched for a face in the shadows, and his heightened sight made out a silhouette of features._

 _That face… That hair… But it was only when the man finally turned to him with the brightest pair of blood-crimson orbs he'd ever seen that Sasuke found himself washed in the soothing waves of recognition and warm relief._

 _._

 _The reassurance, the trust that sparked in his little brother's eyes almost brought him to his knees, and in an uncharacteristic lapse of self-control, Itachi gritted his teeth. He could only be grateful that his brother's traumatized state would hinder him from perceiving the small details that would give him away._

 _Itachi took a customary, steady breath that preceded a particularly gruesome act during a mission…_

 _"Niisan! Niisan – tousan and kaasan are- Why? Who could have done something like this-,"_

 _…and flung a shuriken at his brother in as hostile a manner as he could manage. It was pure, cruel irony that he found his mind confronted with Sasuke's endless pleads to train him in shurikenjutsu._

 _._

 _The sharp clunk of weapon plunging into wood resonated within the small room, and Sasuke found himself freezing with the sound. Reality was lost on him for a brief moment. His niisan's blank, impassive features were all that registered in his mind, and it felt like hours later that the pain on his left arm reached him._

 _He winced, instinctively covering his cut – and still, nothing but his big brother existed. Yet, as seconds ticked by and his eyes remained locked on the cold, distant, and frightful pair of crimson, a chilling thought crawled out of the depths of his stupor._

 _"…Niisan? …What…?" The weapon…his cut…his niisan hadn't thrown it, had he? But then who? His cut… his cut was real. What was happening? Why would he… Why would his niisan hurt him…_

 _But the longer Sasuke stared into the ruthless eyes, the colder the chill became, until the dissipating tremors that shook his body were back in full force – and still, Sasuke couldn't understand why he was suddenly so terrified. It was his niisan. He would protect him. But the nagging wouldn't leave him alone. Why were his eyes so cold? His niisan's eyes were always so warm…_

 _._

 _His Sharingan captured every twitch, every expression, every emotion that crossed his otouto's face._

 _He saw the first flashes of doubt flicker across his features._

 _And then the first traces of fear._

 _Itachi had been ready – he'd donned the mask of a soulless murderer – but nothing could have prepared him for the agony that slammed into him when he witnessed the look in his brother's eyes._

 _._

 _"…What are you doing, niisan?"_

 _His niisan said nothing, and new waves of dread descended over Sasuke, sweeping away the comforting relief that had been so welcoming only seconds ago._

 _"Foolish little brother…"_

 _His niisan's voice… He was hyperventilating once more, and the strenuous symptoms that coursed through his body were almost more unforgiving this time around. Sasuke could no longer deny that something was very, very wrong. That bone-chilling, heartless voice… It was nothing like his brother's kind, gentle tone._

 _._

 _Itachi closed his eyes, searching his conscience for the strength that would enable him to do what he was about to._

For Sasuke…So that he can live. So that he can have a life.

 _The seemingly trivial reminder was enough, and Itachi opened his eyes._

 _._

 _His brother's eyes parted to reveal a foreign shape that Sasuke had seen only once. All too suddenly, his breath was knocked right out of him._

 _For a moment, all he saw was the looming, silver moon on a canvas of suffocating crimson. Then he watched as his brother approached, supporting a gleaming katana that swung with each of his steps. He saw his parents before him, their faces contorted with fear, shock, and terror. And then he watched, mouth agape, feet frozen, as his brother's face twisted into a small, heinous smirk, and he drove the sword right through their mother's chest._

 _A cry caught in his throat, and for a moment, shock inhibited a plausible reaction._

 _And then blood was all he could see._

 _"NIISAN! STOP!"_

 _The splitting scream that tore from his lungs had surely ruptured his vocal chords because Sasuke was suddenly drowning in pain. He couldn't close his eyes, he couldn't turn his head – he could do nothing but watch as his niisan turned to their father this time, and with a swift blow, detached his tousan's head from the rest of his body._

 _"NIISAN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Why are you showing me this?!"_

 _It continued._

 _Sometimes it would change, and it would be his kaasan's severed head that would roll to a stop at Sasuke's feet. Other times, his niisan would torment them – his kaasan and tousan would be tortured to the brink of death, and his niisan's cruel voice would demand that they fight back, that they try and resist him if they could. But they never could._

 _Around the thirteenth hour, Sasuke had the faint realization that fear as he knew it had never been fear at all._

 _Around the twenty-eighth hour, Sasuke finally stopped asking him why he was doing this._

 _Around the forty-second hour, he could finally accept that it was indeed his niisan – his loving, kind, protective niisan – who had truly slaughtered everyone in their family._

 _It was the fifty-first hour that he stopped begging him to stop._

 _After the fifty sixth hour, Sasuke had neither the strength nor the voice left to express his protests and pleads. He could only whimper as he stood, as frozen as he'd been at the start of this nightmare, as Itachi murdered his parents._

 _In the last hours of his trauma, prickles of hatred finally seeped through his terror._

 _It ended after seventy-two hours._

* * *

The bitter tang teased her tongue as the liquid passed her lips. She held the glass at eye level over her propped elbow, peering with a single squinted eye through the clear fluid.

So what if a missing-nin who'd committed an unspeakable act was a kind man?

So what if he had, perhaps, made amends and changed for the better?

Or so what if, maybe, his crimes were a disastrous consequence of his troubled upbringing that was no fault of his own?

Could such an act be pardoned?

Was it really so utterly impossible? Was it so beyond the realm of possibility?

 _Come on, Sakura…_ she inwardly chided herself.

The answer was as clear as day. Of course it was possible. Of course it was possible that 'bad' people could turn 'good' – if such labels even existed in their world. And it would be up to the rest of the 'good' people to allow, to encourage, and to forgive.

She slapped the glass back on the counter and absently swirled the contents for a moment.

And yet, in spite of all plain evidence, why was it so difficult for her to accept this for him? Why had she refused such a notion time and time again, why had she not deliberated this possibility sooner?

She sighed. That answer, ironically, was also as clear as day.

Because it was personal.

Because _he_ was the source of her hardships of the past few years. _He_ was the source of both her and Naruto's pain. Him. It always came back to _him._ And that sort of grudge wouldn't easily fade, she knew. She couldn't even bring herself to imagine how much easier, more peaceful, more gratifying her life would've been if only he hadn't committed that heinous crime…

If Sasuke hadn't resisted them. If he hadn't found reason to severe their bonds. How much easier would it have been for Naruto to feel accepted by his first real friend?

She heaved another sigh. Even her thoughts were sounding more and more like excuses. Yes, the atrocious deed had been done. But ultimately, it had been Sasuke's decision to leave them… It could be argued that it wasn't the direct fault of the Uchiha.

Then again, whether that was true or not, he still _had_ damaged Sasuke beyond repair. And Sasuke was one of her important people – was her single most a few years prior, in fact – and she couldn't so easily accept the man who'd ruined his life. If anything, if Sasuke were to find out she'd treated the man who's slaughtered his entire clan as anything more than a ruthless murderer, he'd never forgive her.

But that didn't change the fact that her current companion – the aforementioned murderer – hardly seemed like a man who'd murder anyone, let alone slaughter his family – at least if her instincts were anything to go by. The notion was a dangerous one, and she'd reprimanded herself for it previously, but it had now become impossible to ignore.

She motioned for another as she tipped the rest of her drink back. Sixth refill and counting. She palmed her cheeks to hold her head up, nodding at the man in thanks. It was no wonder the liquor passed her throat like water – she'd grown used to the evermore pungent strains of sake common to her shishou's collection.

Amidst the frail awareness of her laden mind, flashes of the past few weeks glazed her thoughts.

She saw a neat twirl of seaweed, an extra cloak draped over her shoulders, fingertips grazing the metal of her hitai-ate…

Kunai piercing skin without kill. Eternal flames blazing to the soft hues of sunrise. Fingers trailing velvety black feathers. A stream of serene, resilient chakra.

She saw apologetic eyes, warm, mirth-filled onyx, a polite bow, a kind smile…

Crinkled eyes. A caress of her forehead. A gaze so intense…

A grunt escaped her lips at the images that stole her thoughts, and she felt silently thankful that the man of her deliberations had allowed her this moment of lone-reflection, for if she'd had to endure the haywire winds of doubt that bashed her head for another moment, she'd have surely gone crazy.

It was all she could do to not start when she sensed a shadow looming over her all too abruptly. Feebly rolling her eyes, she propped her head up over a palm.

"You can sit," she gestured vaguely.

He hesitated, and she wondered why he'd even come if not with the intention of joining her. He'd be hard-pressed to find means of entertainment in the empty bar, though she didn't believe him to be a man who sought such distractions anyway. And surely, she didn't have a curfew?

"Sit," she insisted. And finally, he succumbed to her request and slid into the opposite chair of her table for two.

She peered at him over her lashes only to find his troubled gaze fixated on her indulgence.

"Want some?" She swayed the glass mid-air between two fingers in a tempting gesture. His eyes had found hers though, and he spared the drink no glance as he gave a swift shake of his head.

"You're a man of few words," she remarked absently, a humorless smile gracing her features as she lowered the glass. "Just like your brother."

He merely blinked at her assessment, and his gaze skimmed over her glass once again. She sighed. Was he really so concerned? Or was she really that drunk? She didn't _feel_ drunk…this was hardly sufficient to intoxicate her.

"Don't worry, I can hold my liquor," she supplied as she took another sip. "Godaime's apprentice, remember? My first assignment under her wing was to learn how to pick out a hella good bottle of sake, and I had to study and memorize all the different varieties." She drummed her fingers on the table. "There are hundreds of classifications, in case you were wondering."

There was a faint rise to his brows in an expression she couldn't identify. Deciding to cut short her single-sided conversation, she got down to business.

"I have questions, Uchiha," she declared, clasping her fingers and leaning forward ever so slightly in a gesture that clearly indicated him as the culprit with the answers.

His head tipped sideways – this meant he was curious, she noted – and he regarded her patiently, silently urging her to elaborate.

She tapped the rim of her glass as she pondered over her next words, biting her lip in mild anxiety. Deciding to start with the most obvious – and most pressing – she urged herself on.

"Your fingers…" she trailed off detachedly, unseeing gaze locking on her drink for a moment before she got a glimpse of his quirked brow.

"I wouldn't say they belong to an Akatsuki member," she said, catching his gaze with steady, firm emeralds. A fleeting look crossed his features – some caution, doubt, concern – but she caught it under the heat of her stare. His brief reaction gave her enough encouragement to continue.

"Your Akatsuki ring. You don't have it. And you're not wearing any nail polish." She leaned further across the table in a manner that may have been intimidating to anyone but Uchiha Itachi, drilling her eyes to his. "You haven't been travelling with a partner as is customary in your organization, and you aren't wearing your cloak. And of course, you seemed less than friendly with your acquaintance who paid us a visit today." The words were trickling freely from her lips now, all previous reservations set aside.

"Not to mention the most obvious – you somehow don't strike me as Akatsuki material." She drew back at this, slouching comfortably in her chair and giving a casual tip of her head. She eyed him appraisingly, absorbing his carefully molded blankness.

"Dare I say it, Uchiha," her voice descended to a whisper. "You've defected from the Akatsuki."

He seemed unperturbed by her revelation, resuming his own intense perusal of her. Seconds passed, and Sakura waited patiently for him to speak.

It was three whole minutes later that he did.

"I believe none of your remarks were questions," he said with faintly creased brows and all but impassive features.

Sakura rolled her eyes, not entirely surprised by his cryptic response.

"Is it true?" she asked simply for the sake of humoring him.

His lips quirked into a small smile that minimally touched his eyes. It receded a short moment later, and the wrinkles to his brows were back to accompany his apparent mulling.

He seemed troubled more than anything when he finally responded, "It is."

Sakura held her breath, heart skipping a beat at his easy honesty. That was it? Her raging mind geared into overdrive as she dissected the implications of this crucial news. Her brows furrowed at her next pressing question – the most vital of all – and she couldn't help the flares of hope that kindled for her best friend. For one less danger on his life.

"…And Na- the Kyuubi?"

She watched as the lines of his forehead grew more pronounced and his jaw tensed ever so slightly.

"I may not be a part of Akatsuki, but I have my own goals."

Her heart stood still. "And the Kyuubi is a part of those goals?" she asked quietly, tentatively.

Onyx remained locked on emerald, her heart plummeting further with each second of silence. He returned to his troubled state, the shadow of an apology fleeting across his eyes, and she wondered her own expression and what he'd seen on her features that'd prompted such a reaction.

"…As long as our agreement stands, I will not harm him Sakura." He voiced his assurance in a much softer tone than was necessary. It came as a vague, idle realization that he'd referred to her by first name once again – one that had her heart racing. For reasons unknown, Sakura felt warmth seep into her chest at the implication behind his words. It was after she'd recollected herself a moment later that the reason dawned on her.

 _I will not harm_ him.

It was the first time he'd referred to Naruto as a human being instead of the beast that resided within him, and this single fact immersed her in such intense waves of relief – of eased worry over Naruto's life, if only slightly – that Sakura was left momentarily blind, deaf, and mute.

She swallowed. The somewhat-success of their conversation granted her with the confidence to continue.

"Right…" She cleared her throat and straightened up, suddenly nervous under his intense gaze. "Another question. Tobi…"

She grew wary at the quick furrowing of his brows. "Who is he?"

"Why would you like to know?" his voice was careful, measured, yet still light.

Sakura considered him for a moment before deciding to be honest with him, as he was being with her. "You're obviously aware of the escalating bad-blood between Konoha and the Akatsuki," she answered. "And since you're no longer one of them, I figured you might be willing to shed some light." Her tone was equally soft, hopeful.

She averted her eyes fleetingly in a moment of hesitation. "But really… I think you know why," her lips thinned. When he donned a blank look and remained quiet, she sighed and added, "He has the Sharingan, and that's not a very common commodity these days, which makes his existence quite a mystery." She peeked a glance at his expected stoicism.

He moved for the first time since he'd sat down, absently placing an elbow on the table and cradling his neck in his palm. His eyes were unfocused for a few seconds, as if his mind was elsewhere, before he fixated on her once again.

"What is your theory?" he practically murmured, leaning closer across the narrow table as curious eyes shone with intrigue and traces of concern.

Her eyes fluttered, taken aback by his certainty that she'd already devised a theory of her own – an accurate prediction on his part.

"Well…" she faltered. "Since I was under the impression that you were working together, my most viable speculation was that…he's someone you secretly spared during the…massacre."

He didn't appear put off by her words and merely pinned her with an indiscernible look, his lips visibly thinning.

"I see," he said quietly.

She carried her gaze back to her drink. "All existing files on the massacre are strictly confidential. They've long been buried…" A wave of sadness washed over her. "I did my research though. I know everything that's been documented about that night. And there's nothing to indicate the possibility of another survivor… Just Sasuke."

She peered at him through pink lashes. His unblinking gaze was fixated on the cheap wood of their tabletop. She pursed her lips, growing more impatient by the second. "So…? Is it true?"

The soft sigh that escaped his lips startled her. "Sasuke was…" he started, and Sakura swallowed, her brows furrowing at his uncharacteristic search for words. "I only spared Sasuke," he declared a moment later. Her lids fluttered in a slow blink, and her gaze lowered from his as an array of foreign emotions spun in her mind.

"The man… Tobi. His identity may cause an uproar," he began again with impassive tones. "I'm afraid I may not be the best person to reveal who he is." He paused at this, watching her with growing concern. "But I can tell you that… he is a dangerous man and should not be underestimated," he said gravely, seemingly choosing his words with utmost caution and willing her to mark his warning.

 _And you aren't?_ was her first thought _. Can_ you _be trusted…?_ She frowned as she searched his genuine features, as always finding nothing that would spark her distrust.

Her second thought circled around Tobi. An uproar? Frown remaining in place, she tested her second – though, in her opinion, less viable – speculation. "If you didn't spare him… Then was he an accomplice?" Sakura was skeptical; Konoha hadn't even considered the possibility of another culprit – at least none of the documentation indicated that they had – and she trusted the village to have a feasible reason for not doing so.

His reaction was an absurd kind, however, and she sighed softly in response to the small smile that accompanied warm onyx pools. "Interesting," he mused in a murmur.

She felt restless then. Was he confirming it? He hadn't single-handedly slaughtered his clan? In spite of her wishes to remain reserved, her pulse started racing of its own accord.

 _It wouldn't make a difference, Sakura. He was still a part of it._

She shook her head feebly. Why was she so ready to make excuses for his sake?

"So he was?" she sought confirmation. "Tobi was one of your accomplices?" She couldn't help but fleetingly compare the two men. She recalled Tobi – his ruthless tortures, chilling aura, and inhumane treatment of her. And then the man who sat before her… His considerate mannerisms, kind smiles, and peculiar concern for her wellbeing. It was baffling to imagine the two ever working together.

His smile faded, giving way to his unease. "I'm afraid I cannot provide you with the answers you're looking for."

They remained quiet for a moment, gravely staring into one another's eyes in the hopes that the other would let slip something they were trying to hide. She heaved a sigh in defeat and ran a hand through her pink locks. "Right. Well, I hardly think we would underestimate him either way… But thanks anyway for the heads up." She knew him enough to know when to give up.

A comfortable silence followed, and Sakura took to draining the contents of her glass, deciding she didn't fancy a seventh refill.

"I have some questions as well," he ventured quietly, hesitantly, weighing her response.

She frowned. What could he possibly want to ask her? "Fire away," she shrugged.

His gaze flickered to their table, before fleetingly roaming her features. "How did you heal me?"

She flinched, and her frown deepened. The tortures were still fresh in her mind.

"It is not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable," he frowned as well. "You may not answer if you do not wish to."

At this, she offered him a bitter smile. "It's fine. I just thought you already knew," she said before scowling. "It was a genjutsu."

He seemed to have known this fact, however, as he added, "And the genjutsu prompted you to heal me fully?"

She tried recollecting the details from her hazy, pain-encompassed memories. "It's difficult to remember…but I guess so. Why wouldn't it?" she posed in puzzlement.

He searched her features for a moment before drawing a polite smile. "I suppose it would." He continued, "And I was also wondering how you kept me alive before healing me."

"Ha?" Sakura cocked a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I was dead."

"No, you weren't," she refuted with furrowed brows, shaking her head along to her words. "Your pulse was extremely weak, but you were alive when I was brought in."

Sakura could almost see the cogs whirling behind his eyes. "I see," was all he said.

The stretch of silence wasn't as easy as the previous, but she found that she didn't mind it. It was after five minutes of discreetly watching him watch her with his hazy orbs while seemingly mulling over his thoughts that she swiftly stood to call it a night.

She approached the bar baring a smile, parting her lips to address the waiter when she saw her companion drop a few bills on the counter from the corner of her eye.

"Oh! You don't have to do that," she hurried to his side, palms drawn defensively. "I already arranged to help the chef cook in the morning as payment."

A dark brow quirked, his features growing visibly amused, yet he made no move to retrieve the money.

"I'm serious," she scowled. Liquor was hardly a necessity, and she felt less than comfortable with him paying when he hadn't even had any himself.

He regarded her with gleaming, mirthful eyes. "Would you accept it as a token of my gratitude for healing my arm when it wasn't a part of our agreement?"

Sakura had the urge to tell him that didn't count, since she'd unwillingly inflicted the damage in the first place, but something in his amused gaze held her back. For some reason, she didn't think he would accept any objections.

Sighing in defeat, she followed him upstairs. As she gazed ahead at his flailing ponytail, she couldn't do but exhale a soft chuckle at his strange antics.

* * *

Sandy gravel crunched under his sandals as he covered the short distance to the cave exit. As he crossed the threshold, the first rays of day glinted off the inky blanket that rippled at his feet.

"…Man, this cloak's heavier than it looks."

"Stop complaining! You carry that monstrous thing on your back all day-,"

"Hey! Don't you dare dis my sword! It's different…"

He turned deaf ears to his team's quarrels, edging closer to the serene waters of dawn. A gush of wind swept his new, unfastened attire, and the purplish hues of the sky were suddenly tainted by red clouds.

"…No one asked you!"

"Shut up baka!"

"Why you-,"

"Let's go." The detached tone of his quiet command effectively gained the attentions of his three companions. They mutedly claimed their positions behind him.

"So…where do we find the Eight-Tails anyway?"

Sasuke zipped his Akatsuki cloak. "Land of Lightning."

And they were off.

* * *

It was late afternoon the next day when they finally arrived.

It took a short few hours to cross the border, and then a few more to reach their final destination. Trees and forested lands were scarce in this area, and they'd been travelling on flat grassland for the majority of the day. Itachi inhaled the tangy fragrance of saltwater as he gazed ahead at the expansive stretch of blue. With each step, his memories fought more adamantly to overwhelm his senses, and he could do nothing but will them away for just a little longer.

"We're very close." His words served to assure him more than they did her.

Instead of heading to sea, he guided them west, parallel along the shores that lead to the Land of Waves. Every few seconds, a short gasp would reach his ears as his companion absorbed the serenity of the beautiful scenery before them. They crossed dozens of streams and small rivers that flowed steadily toward the large body of water. After an hour along this path, he headed southwards once again by a broad river – one that stretched larger than any other they'd passed. Instead of crossing it, they travelled along the riverside until they reached a lone, seemingly out of place oak tree.

The tree was positioned at the very edge of land – right between the shoreline and the riverbank – with the sea stretching to its south and the river flowing to its west, where the two bodies met in a cascade of white foam and ripples and babbles.

Itachi slowed to a walk, covering the few steps to the estuary as three crows lowered their flight above him. He came to a halt at the very edge of the riverside, gazing down at the unyielding current as it flooded into sea and disappeared from sight.

"Where are we…?" she whispered, in complete awe of her surroundings as she stepped beside him.

Images flashed behind his lids. More flocks of crows descended from the sky, and a tranquil smile nudged at his lips. "…Where the Nakano River ends."

She sought only a heartbeat to process his words. "…The river that flows through Konoha?" she asked with incredulous wonder.

 _"_ _Don't stop me, Itachi… If you're my friend."_

 _"…_ _SHISUI!"_

"The very one." His wistful tenor earned him a startled glance, but he paid it no heed as blissful memories from a past life flooded his awareness, and he surrendered to the waters that had swept his best friend away.

.

 _"_ _Ah…you sprained your ankle," the older Uchiha spared him a knowing smile._

 _"_ _You're making a big deal out of nothing…" the younger boy mumbled._

 _"_ _No matter how exceptional you are, Itachi… Don't overdo it." Shisui reached behind the boy and tugged at his ponytail._

 _._

 _"_ _I'll be happy to listen to you anytime you want to talk. Remember that, Itachi."_

 _._

 _"_ _It's because you're exceptional, Itachi… That's why I bet you've never tried to understand the feelings of someone who's not," Shisui peeked a glance at the young boy beside him. Itachi's brows were furrowed as he listened intently, his thoughts lost to an inner turmoil Shisui couldn't even begin to imagine._

 _._

 _"_ _I thought there was really nothing I could teach you," Shisui mused out loud with a small smile._

 _Itachi's brows wrinkled. "You taught me a lot today."_

 _"_ _Yeah…And that made me happy."_

 _._

 _"_ _You're like a little brother to me, Itachi… So being able to take you under my wing like this makes me really happy. I want you to think of me as your older brother. Someone you can depend on for anything."_

 _._

 _"_ _But there's one thing that's certain… I will never, ever betray you. That's the one thing that will always stand certain."_

.

.

.

Sakura continued her perusal of the man beside her in wary wonder. Bright rays of the afternoon sun glinted off his sharp features, accentuating each expression, each shadow of motion. What would appear to others as his customarily blank mien was to her a successive stream of emotions that softened the edges of his symmetrical façade.

She'd learned to read him well.

Emeralds roamed his face. She'd never seen him expose such a cascade of feelings before, and the depths of raw emotion that so visibly lingered on the surface took her breath away. There was fondness in the way onyx orbs gleamed, yet there was sweltering pain in the hollow pits underneath. There was devotion in the faint crinkles to his eyes, and yet despair in the way they drooped ever so slightly.

But beneath the intricate layers were two that governed all others: love and loss.

She blinked, tearing herself away from the uncharacteristic display as the soft tunes of the crows grew more insistent. She turned her gaze to the skies, and her lips parted in shock at the sight – there were dozens, and they were circling the sky in tiers, their velvety, dusky skin luminous as they persisted their oddly lulling melodies.

Her own emotions swirled into disarray as she mirrored his scrutiny of the river. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined this river – the very tide of water she'd grown beside – to flow so far from home and meet its end at such a heavenly setting. It was surreal.

And not only the Nakano River – they'd passed streams of currents that littered the dreamlike landscape, all seemingly magical in their drift. No wonder the country was called the Land of Rivers.

"There's a long-standing myth that this river safeguards one's secrets, but only if it finds them worthy." Her head snapped back to his at the sudden revelation. He continued, and she found herself momentarily entranced by the soft tunes of his tenor, "It is said to be unyielding in its treatment, yet gently soothing in its baring."

She watched the breeze ease the silky raven bangs off his face. "How does it know if you're worthy?" she vaguely heard herself asking him.

The wondrous smile that tugged at his lips as he carried his gaze heavenward was nothing short of beautiful. Onyx irises peeked at her from the corner of his eye, and his smile turned into something warmer, more kind, and crinkled his eyes at the corners. "That's the mystery," he answered with a tiny, teasing quirk of his brow.

She blinked, her features twisting into a grimace in response to his lighthearted conduct. She eyed him carefully, wondering if he'd truly meant to tease her or if he was simply unmindful of his mannerisms. In the next moment though, she couldn't do but return his smile in kind, albeit timidly, before her face turned playful. "Don't tell me you dragged me all the way here just to tell me that," she quipped.

His eyes crinkled further, and she witnessed his shoulders tremble in muted laughter for the second time. "Not quite," he said as one of his devoted companions descended to his side and hovered before him.

He extended his good arm and the crow settled with a soft caw, once again drawing her gaze to its leathery surface glinting exotically under the sun's rays.

"Why crows?" she blurted the pressing question that'd been pestering her mind.

He slanted her a glance before turning to the bird. It was long moments later that he replied – almost bashfully – with evident fondness directed at the animal on his arm.

"It wasn't an active choice on my part…" he murmured, brushing a finger under its beak. "They survive in large flocks, you see," he peeked another tight-lipped glimpse at her, this time visibly timid and somewhat uneasy. "They sort of…claimed me one day."

He allowed a small, gentle smile to tug at the corners of his lips then. "And they saved my life."

Sakura's brows rose in surprise as her gaze flickered between the two, quietly watching the affectionate exchange. "They seem very fond of you," she voiced her observation.

He turned to look at her blankly, regarding her carefully for a moment. "They don't feel comfortable leaving me alone for long," he said matter-of-factly. "Since they're always in flocks, it makes them uneasy when I'm not surrounded by others." His brows creased faintly at this.

Sakura mulled over his words, her gaze locking with the crow's.

"Would you like to hold him?" Her widened eyes whipped to his, startled and wary. He was staring at her with all the intensity of his scrutiny, seemingly having misjudged the intentions of her close perusal of the bird.

"U-umm…" she stuttered, at a loss for what to say, yet unable to deny her strange intrigue with the animal. "Sure?"

He gave a swift nod and took a step closer to her. She almost recoiled at his sudden proximity, and he blinked, relinquishing a moment's hesitation before slowly lowering his arm – and the bird – to her level. Sakura bit her lip and clasped her fingers in a sign of unease, sparing him a tentative glance. He merely held still and waited patiently for her to extend her arm, but his eyes were warm and encouraging. Feeling more confident, she turned her attention to the animal. The feathery brush of her arm against his made her tense, her skin tingling with the sudden onslaught of goosebumps. The crow had turned to face her and was regarding her carefully with a pair of beaded eyes and a knowing gaze. The moment her arm was extended, it cocked its head briefly as if it were considering her request, before swiftly hooking its talons over her forearm.

Sakura drew a sharp breath, undeniably taken by the intricacy of its feathery skin at such close proximity. With no amount of thinking, her hand reached for him, her fingertips skimming its surface, and a soft sigh escaped her lips; it _was_ as velvety as it looked. She trailed her hand under its beak, along its wing, and over its head. The crow started its soft humming, and she allowed a quiet giggle from her lips as its pulses tickled her fingers.

"It's almost like a cat," she laughed. After a minute of her petting, she took note of the odd silence and glanced up – only to freeze under the stare of piercing onyx that shone like coals ablaze. Her lips parted in shock, and the first thought that crossed her mind was just how much taller he was. He seemed to be thoroughly examining her - his pale lips thinned, brows furrowed in concentration, and a look of amazed wonder in place. She swallowed thickly, meeting the eyes that were mere inches from her own.

Emerald and onyx melted into one another, time but an abstract concept as seconds trailed in succession to a slow, prolonged rhythm that grew more sluggish as her pulse slammed against her ears – loud, invigorating, and eternal.

It was the shrill caw that ruptured the tense silence and shook the pair from their haze. Both sets of eyes whipped down to the crow, all but forgotten and still perched on her arm. Air was forced out of her lungs in a sudden gush of breath, and she was only vaguely aware of the man consciously distancing himself from her. Trembling fingers found leathery feathers to help ease her nerves as her heart pounded against her ribcage.

It was a whole three minutes later that she risked a searching glance – and found him by the towering oak tree. Her brows creased in confusion as she watched his hands glide over the rough surface of the bark. He stopped, stepped back, and suddenly his hands were moving at flash speed, forming dozens of hand signs that were nothing but blurs of skin to her eyes. She gasped when he finally brushed his palm against the trunk, before the customary pop accompanied a cloud of smoke at its base – and she glimpsed a small object just as the smoke cleared.

A… scroll? It was tiny, and she squinted for a better look, but it was retrieved before she'd had a chance to confirm.

She eyed him warily as he returned to the riverbank. "You were hiding something here," she said, to which he merely offered her a blank stare.

Something occurred to her then, twisting her lips into a small smirk. "You didn't hide your secret in the river?" she quirked a brow in challenge.

Mirth returned to onyx as he offered her a small smile, before he turned solemn and peered at the river's foaming mouth. "I didn't," he replied in grave tones that sounded unfitting in response to her lighthearted remark, and again, Sakura had the recurrent desire – more steadfast in its appeal with each passing day – to get an insight into his thoughts.

"We should find shelter," he murmured, looking up at the stretch of clear azure. "There's a storm coming."

He visibly faltered when he met her gaze, and Sakura watched a flash of indecision cross his features, before a blank mask reclaimed its place.

"Once the storm has passed...you are free to leave."


End file.
